Not Really Dead
by windwings
Summary: In the aftermath of Appius's and Alexei's death Sookie's problems don't seem to disappear, quite on the contrary. Her relationship with Eric is strained, her job is becoming ever more stressful, and someone she cares about is made vampire. Set after DitF.
1. Chapter 1

A/N. I do not own (though how I wish I did :), and I do not make any money. All I get out of this is reviews and an extra helping of fangirly squee. I'd like to thank my dear beta and friend **Kristen **for parsing this for errors and slips. Enjoy and please feed the muse - leave me a note.

~oOo~

We all have our quirks, every single person on this planet does. Some are quite innocuous, possibly cute, and, in a way, even useful. Take, for example, my fellow waitress (and Bon Temps resident witch) Holly who is afraid of pizza. Or my friend Amelia (another a witch), who cleans when she's nervous, scared or plain old emotional. Some people's quirks are less innocent, and trust me, I know, I've been inside enough heads to figure this one out myself. Take, for instance, my brother Jason and things he likes to do in bed. And no, I didn't ask to know this.

Some quirks are just… quirkier than most. Like my little thing. Just a few months ago I used to think that while I'll never embrace it fully, I may, at least, come to terms with it, eventually. After all, it was handy at times. I'm even proud to say it saved lives.

Right now, however, I was hating it with a fire of a thousand suns. And all because a certain vampire king (let's not point fingers here, alright?) was a blab.

That's right, it's all because of Felipe De Castro that I have found myself in this predicament. At first, it wasn't so bad, when the vampires started coming to Merlotte's. Vampire heads are like opaque magic balls to me. Can't see a thing in them. The vampires would come, throw cautious sideways glances at me, order a blood or two, maybe pick up a willing partner for the rest of the night, and leave. None of them would even talk to me, but I was sure as hell, it was me they were here for. They were all on their best behavior, since they were on Eric Northman's turf. And Eric did not take lightly to vamps fooling around while in his territory. And really, since they didn't approach me, he could do nothing. Merlotte's was a public place, and no one gets in trouble for looking.

But then, the humans started coming in. Humans, who didn't have unhurried decades of time to hone their patience and tolerance. Humans, who thought that because they had some kind of a formal (or informal) association with high-standing vampires, they were in a position to look down at everyone else. They would come, leave their drivers to watch over their flashy cars, frown upon our greasy menu, which was sporting not a single item of healthy food (apart from a side dish of green salad), order a glass of wine and be generally complacent morons.

Those newcomers eyed me with blatant lack of manners. They made it obvious that the sole reason of their presence here was me – a backwater town telepathic waitress. They wanted to know why, why oh why in the world would Felipe De Castro, the great ancient king, take interest in, extend personal protection to and talk highly of some white trash tramp when _they_ had expensive looks, polished by everything the modern medicine could provide, indefinite bank account depths, educated conversation and political influence to offer.

_Why her, why not me. What is it that her mind trick can do that money and power and brains can't? _Each one of those men and women had this thought red-lining through their heads.

The minds of those humans (and I actually hate using this word on my fellow humankind in a way vampires usually do, but I can't help but separate myself from them) were as identical as apples in the fruit rack at Wal-Mart. Money, sex, power, money, how do I look, blah, blah. But I gleaned quite a bit about the vampire politics from those expensive fangbangers.

Felipe was not just a king. In the United States, where both vampires and the humans who had dealings with them were growing tired of their feudal fragmentation of power, Felipe was viewed as the most viable candidate to unite the Vampire society under firm central rule. And these humans were sharp enough to try and secure a place with him before it happened. Because when this happened, he would be a force to be reckoned with for everyone, human or not.

This was also how I found out that Felipe had big plans for me, though none of the people who knew of this were sure exactly what these plans entailed. And he also apparently bragged of how exquisite and smart and brave I am. And what an invaluable asset I am to his kingdom.

So they all came to look at me, as if I were some scandalous museum oddity or a newborn polar bear cub in a zoo, and try to answer the big why question.

To say I was pissed would be a huge understatement. I was used to the disdain and holier-than-thou attitude of people around me. But never did I want to become a Bon Temps own little attraction; never did I look for that kind of fame (or infamy).

The worst thing about the situation was that I wasn't the only one getting my feathers seriously ruffled. The locals were becoming increasingly aware of these strangers and did not like it one bit. Sure, they weren't the first uptight snobs Merlotte's had seen and served. Every now and then there was one or two: a couple of preppy big-city college kids on a road trip or a yuppie businessman on an odd errand. But never had there been so many and with such strong, almost tangible air of maliciousness that even the most thick-skinned bar patrons were able to pick upon.

Sam, my boss, was not amused. First, they were bad for business. They were loud, obnoxious and impudent. They didn't order much or tip. They would not get up and just leave when told. And in the long run, they started affecting the overnight revenues. It also did not take him long to figure out the reason they were here. Sam was a very, very perceptive man. He had canine senses, literally.

Strangely, though I knew it was my fault, I felt guilt-free. Probably, because the last few months had taken their toll on me and changed me. It seemed like my mind was growing numb, a pathetic defense mechanism if you ask me. But for a few weeks I'd been able to handle the situation rather well. It was like my brain was putting it on the back burner and going to my happy place each time a person dressed in European brands I wasn't sure I could pronounce correctly walked in and after looking around and checking out all the waitresses, washed me over with a contemptuous look.

Actually, I had two happy places I took turn going to. The first one was my home and my family. For the first time since Gran died two years ago, I was able to say I had both a home and a family. My full-blooded fairy cousin, Claude (who could charm a nun out of her underwear if he kept his eyes open and his mouth closed), was still staying with me. I have to admit, that after all we had been through together, I really started to appreciate the often ill-mannered and too straight-forward fairy. The fact that he was actually taking pains in being more civilized, since he wanted to live with humans, helped a great bit.

And then, there was Dermot. He didn't live with Claude and me, in fact, I still didn't know where he lived, but he ran by very often. Several times a week. Sometimes he'd spend the night bunking on the couch in the living room, which meant that come morning, Claude and I would be treated to a most delicious breakfast made of things I didn't even know I had in my pantry or fridge.

I really liked Dermot. He had a rare quietness about him that made you feel comfortable around him and words – an unnecessary chore. He was kind and considerate and shy. And because he so eerily resembled my brother Jason—who was quite the opposite of all these qualities—it was a baffling contradiction to his looks. Though, if you looked at him twice, you'd never mistake him for Jason again. They did look very much a like, but Dermot had some kind of evasive, refined grace about him I supposed came from his very old age and being half-fae. Claude told me that Dermot was much more fae than his brother Fintan, my grandfather.

Dermot didn't talk a lot; I think he firmly believed that actions speak louder than words, and his actions always spoke of warmth and affection. They felt genuine and I needed them so much in my life that I never let myself question his loyalty or his history with Breandon, my family and Niall, and the spell he was under. I took to 'let the goners be goners' attitude, and it felt right to do so. I think Dermot appreciated it a great bit, too.

The three of us spent many an evening watching movies and playing board games. We would go shopping together and fish at weekends, tend the garden or do housework. We would help each other out in big and little everyday things. Whatever we did, it always gave me a feeling of the living finally being easy, as in that Summer Time song. The last time I felt so… loved, for the lack of better word, was when Gran was alive. It was the homey kind of love. Not the passion and the novelty of the fresh-in-love I had experienced with Bill, not the rollercoaster ride of feelings I have for Eric. I cherished this feeling and basked in it and for the first time in a long while looked forward to coming home with great eagerness.

Eric, by the way, was my other happy place. Except, of late, it was not all that happy. When Eric came down from the fairy-blood induced high, the realization of his maker's final death hit him hard. And the fact that I was well and truly ready to do the deed myself, if not for Colman's unlucky aim, added a lot of bad factor to the bad place Eric was currently in.

He still came to see me or called me to come to him in Shreveport. He was still passionate and inventive in bed (or on any other surface we made love on), still as subtly obsessive as ever when it came to my safety. But I could tell that something was just… off. Something didn't compute anymore, and though the big picture was still lovely and bright, something was there, around the edges, eluding being put a finger on, but showing itself in little things.

Our bond felt differently, too. After being crowded with presences of Appius and Alexei—none of which I can tag either healthy or benevolent—it felt strangely empty now that both were gone. The Pollyanna part of me kept attributing to the fact that whatever part of my mind that was the bond was heavily screwed during Appius's little family visit and was now desensitized. But some hidden, shy part of me kept wondering if the emptiness I was feeling was in face, Eric's emptiness, if this is how he felt afte his maker was lost.

The words Appius had said to me before he had let out his final (though already long non-existent) breath kept playing in my head on repeat. _You won't keep Eric_.

I knew I had to set things straight, call him out on it, but I didn't really even know what it was that I wanted to call my vampire out on. So, I just let it simmer for the time being. I let him have his space, and I myself needed some elbow room; I was being overloaded with problems as it was.

And my first problem for today was my ex, Bill. He showed up soon after the quick darkness of southern night swallowed Bon Temps up. And there were several things that were different about him. First, he looked like the healthy, stealthy, sharp and handsome vampire I first met more than two years ago. Second, he didn't sit in my section. And third, when I surreptitiously checked out his order slip Holly took, I saw A negative. The first time I could recall that Bill didn't order my blood type when he had a choice.

I knew I should be happy for him. After all, it wasn't like there was a snowflake's chance in hell that we could restore our relationship. I had sort of forgiven Bill, but there was too much bad blood between us. And I was in love with Eric. For all intents and purposes, I was married to him as far as the vampire world went. We were blood-bonded.

But I realized that it didn't stop my heart from clenching in wistful sadness. I also realized, that I got inherently used to Bill just being there on a deeper level than I cared to. He was like an unobtrusive vigil to my wellbeing ( though sometimes, unobtrusive was the last thing to call Bill, and it was a good thing). His orders of O positive became like a token of his love I could not take but could still appreciate, like something of a constant to me. And hell if I did not come to rely on that constant.

I answered Bill's friendly wave with a smile, as sincere as I could muster under the circumstances and promised to give self a serious pep-talk about being unselfish and able to empathize with Bill's happiness, even if said happiness did not involve my person anymore.

My other problem was a woman who had come into the bar only fifteen minutes ago, but was already preparing to kick up a row. She wore a tasteful, smart casual dress and a jacket, expensive accessories and had a to-die-for hair stylist and dentist. She was beautiful in a cultured, assisted way.

The woman was worried about someone stealing her car and was thinking callously that we inbreds probably had never seen a Porsche before. I brought out her order of a club sandwich and iced tea, and after sparing my name tag a haughty look, she kept calling me 'hey, you' and contemplating whether she should pull the 'broken glass in my salad' act with me or not. She was also regretful that vampires couldn't have babies. Otherwise, Victor could be hers, even if she had to go to court and make an ass out of herself. She'd done it before and would stoop to do it again.

So, she was Victor's… whoever she was to him. Victor Madden, Felipe's lieutenant and Louisiana regent would not make even the long list of my favorite vampires. I couldn't suppress the shudder of revulsion. Unfortunately, the woman saw it and decided to act. 'Glass shards in my salad' trick it is, then.

Very soon, there was a whole skirmish, which involved me seething, Sam trying to calm the woman down fruitlessly and getting more and more upset by the second and the woman (whose name was Deirdre) screaming and promising to sic Louisiana Health Department on Sam.

The place was charged with tension, and everyone's food was forgotten. Who knows how it would have ended. I was ready to explode and start airing some of Deirdre's very dirty laundry when Bill appeared silently behind me and caught the woman's eyes.

"Oh, you're a vampire!" she exhaled like she'd just escaped being stomped by a horde of rabid elephants. "Thank god, I thought I wouldn't find a decent face in this swamp."

"Let me help you, Ma'am," Bill said in that cold, mesmerizing voice he used when he was about to get what he wanted from humans.

You would have thought someone who supposedly had so much experience dealing with vampires, and such sneaky devils as Victor Madden at that, would know how to avoid being glamoured by one of them.

Three minutes later Bill, ever the gentleman, was walking Deirdre to her car. She praised the fine establishment and left in a flurry of heartfelt goodbyes, having tipped me handsomely and talking Bill's ear off about her Chihuahua, who was about to give birth and suddenly needed her own personal supervision. Sam gave me an indecipherable look and stomped off to his office.

At that moment I understood that the majority of the patrons had never seen a vampire in his element like this before. And more than a few of them seemed to realize just how dangerous Vampire Bill actually was. Five more minutes after that it started to look like it would be a very slow night.

I walked to Sam's office tentatively when I had nothing left to do.

My boss was sitting at his desk, his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry it has come to this, Sam," I said.

"I know, I know, Sookie. It's just… It's just a little too much for one day, you know what I mean?"

Yeah, I know what you mean, Sam, I thought. I've had countless days like this.

I lowered my shields and listened a bit. Sam was a shape-shifter, and I couldn't read his thoughts as clearly as regular people's, but I caught a distinct vibe of sadness and anger. Sam was very upset. And underneath it all, there was a strange undercurrent of… guilt? Huh.

But Sam was one of my best friends and a boss few are lucky to have, and I wanted to make it all better for him.

"It will die down soon, Sam. I'm not going to get… promoted or join Felipe's court. I'm not going anywhere! I'm still the crazy Sookie everyone loves to hate!" I joked lamely, but Sam didn't find it that funny. Or true.

"It's just been so hectic, Sook. And that thing Bill did… and everyone saw, everyone! Good God, Sookie."

I felt a nip of anger. For Chrissakes, Sam shifted into a collie every full moon and now he was judging Bill for handling the situation in the only safe way possible?

"I don't think you're being fair to Bill here, Sam," I said with steel in my voice.

"I know." Sam answered, resigned. _Neither am I being fair to you_.

What?

Before I could think this over, Sam continued, in speech now.

"You know, Alcide thinks you're not going to be here for long now. He thinks you'll be… joining Felipe… as one of them. Soon." There was pain in Sam's eyes, and, acting on an instinct, I came closer and reached for his hand.

It wasn't Alcide thinking so. It was Jannalynne, a Were who Sam was seeing, but who I thought had serious hots for Alcide (or, rather, his position as the Packmaster of Shreveport). Jannalynne also thought I was bad for Sam's business, detrimental even.

To my overwhelming horror, at least some part of Sam was agreeing with her.

"Do you want me to quit?" I asked in jagged whisper before Sam realized what I saw in his head.

"Sookie, what? Sookie, calm down, let's talk, Sook. Sook!"

Sam's words came to me through some haze, and I felt hot, bitter tears of utter hurt running down my face. Sam didn't say yes. But he didn't say no either.

He was saying something, running his hand through his curly, spiky red-blonde hair, but I tuned him out. In a daze, I took off my apron and went about gathering my things. I knew I had a few minutes, half an hour maybe, of this numbness to autopilot myself home before the pain of Sam's betrayal finally uncoiled in my stomach.

Yes, at the moment, I was seeing this as a betrayal. He once said that no matter what, I would always have this job. And it was another constant in my life which proved to be a variable when put to test, however strenuous.

First Bill, then Sam. Somewhere deep down, where my sensible side was taking a vacation, I knew I was being unfair, but perhaps, it was just time for me to count my anti-blessings.

I ran out of the bar and fumbled in my purse for the cell phone. My fingers shook so bad, I thanked god Eric was on speed dial, otherwise pressing all the keys would have proved a challenge.

The phone rang one, two, four times and went to voicemail. I hang up before Eric's husky voice finished asking me to leave a message so that he'd get hold of me soon. I didn't know what to tell him. Probably, I was just hoping to hear his reassuring 'hello, my lover' and take it from there.

It was nothing, I told myself. He's just out in the bar, solemnly sitting in his throne, or tending to some business or other.

But somewhere in the heart of me it felt like yet another constant of my life was sifting slowly but inevitably through my fingers like sand.

I drove home like an automat, ignored my dinner, considerably left out in the microwave by Claude, who left a note saying that he felt a bit off and needed to walk it out (meaning, felt horny and wanted a one-night stand), forewent the shower and cried myself to sleep.

~oOo~

A sudden feeling of engulfing urgency woke me up. My head was heavy and cotton-stuffed after all the crying, and I felt the beginnings of a tension headache behind my puffy eyes. It was still dark out and I jumped up in bed trying to figure out the source of the uncomfortable compulsion.

Sure enough, there was a presence in my room.

He stood shyly at the window, looking at the pictures at my vanity. Sensing me awake, he turned around.

A wave of relief flushed over me. Jason.

Except, what was Jason doing in my bedroom in the middle of the night?

I squinted, and my sleep-addled brain registered that it was not Jason at all. The face was softer and somehow more spirited. The man's build was lither and his hair longer, with a luxurious wave to it, a guileless look in his eyes.

Dermot.

He gave out an ethereal glow. And for the love of me, I could swear I was able to see my make-up and perfume bottles on my vanity right through him.

Then it dawned on me.

I screamed.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N. Still don't own. First of all, thank you for your lovely reviews! I'm glad you guys think it starts in an interesting place and hope to keep you with me. Again, hugs, chocolates and naughty Askars dreams go to **Kristen**, my dear beta. Here is chapter 2.

~oOo~

I screamed until there was no air left in my lungs to power it and then took a breath and screamed some more. Dermot, or the ghost of Dermot, or the vision of Dermot was standing still near my vanity, exhibiting literally angelic patience.

I finally realized that I was getting a little ridiculous with my over-the-top reaction and stopped punishing my vocal chords.

"Dermot?" The question was stupid, but how else would you start a conversation such as this?

"Sookie. I'm sorry I've frightened you," he answered in that sweet, vulnerable voice I had come to really like

I immediately thought that he was dead and it would be the last time I'd see him. I welled up.

"Are you dead?" Another stupid question.

"Yes, I am. Apparently, I'm more of a fairy than even Niall thought, since I'm standing here now."

Wait just a second. I shook my head, trying to clear it up.

"Why didn't you… make an apparition to Niall? Isn't he your oldest living relative?" I asked, confused[k1] .

"Spirits cannot traverse between worlds, Sookie."

"Claude, then? Claude is still here, isn't he?" For a moment, a sharp feeling of dread seized me like a vise, and I almost choked. If Dermot didn't go to Claude, then Claude was… Oh God. Oh God, no. I gasped and covered my mouth with my hand.

"No, no, Sookie! Claude is fine!" Dermot's transparent face contorted with pain. He hated hurting people. "Claude is fine, don't worry. I came to you because even though I'm dead, I'm not… _really_ dead."

For a second there, he looked like he was about to tell me he borrowed a million dollars from bad guys, died and passed his debt to me.

Not really dead. I didn't like the sound of it.

"What do you mean, not really dead? Are you in… the state of clinical death or something?"

I watched a documentary on Discovery a few months ago about people who, after their heart stopped for a few minutes and they actually died, saw things. They said their spirits left their bodies at that time.

"No, unfortunately not. I did die, good and proper." He made a helpless gesture with his hands. "But I will start a new life. Tomorrow night, I think."

And then it hit me. I felt the way my mouth opened in astonishment and words got stuck in there for a second.

"Did someone make you a _vampire_?"

"I think so, yes." Dermot looked rather clueless.

"And you decided to come to me?"

"I think I was given a choice who to go to, because I'm not going to Summerland, I'm going back. And I don't know anyone who would… know more about vampires than you do and be… kind enough to help me." Dermot looked at me in a soft, proud way a mother looks at her child when he wins a ribbon. Not for the first place, or even the third… just a ribbon for participation they give out to all the other kids so that no one gets upset.

He was making such a big mistake here. I loved vampires and hated some. I had sex with them, had their blood (voluntarily and involuntarily), and gave mine. I participated in their petty intrigues and big-scale wars. I saved them and I killed them. But I still thought I knew shit about them, most of the times.

"Oh," I managed to utter, smitten with how much trust he was putting in me. "Oh, Dermot. Thank you, but… why didn't you go to your maker? Who is your maker anyway? For all I know, you don't have to worry, when you wake up he or she will be there waiting for you. They will help you out and walk you through this." I was aiming this inspirational little speech more at myself than at Dermot. "I'm sure you'll love your new life. Lots of them… you… do." The smile I plastered on my face at these words felt sour.

"I don't know who my maker is, Sookie. And I feel they won't come for me." Dermot said frighteningly matter-of-factly.

"How do you feel something like this?" I asked.

"How do vampires feel when the sun is coming up?"

Ok, touché.

But still. Some harebrained, cruel-ass idiot of a vampire killed one of my family. Drained him, given him their blood and left him to pick up the pieces. Unprotected, unguided. Helpless. I felt my anger bubbling to the surface. I would not leave it at that. I may not know many things about vampires, but I knew they took seriously to protecting their young.

"Dermot," I said in no-nonsense tone. "Tell me everything."

And he did.

There wasn't much to tell, as it turned out. He was walking through the woods near my home. Just patrolling, he said. It was peaceful and quite. He liked my woods. They reminded him of good things in his life. Next thing he knew, he was on the ground, face down, dirt and last year's leaves stuffing his mouth as he tried to scream. It was over very soon. He felt life ebbing away from him with each deep draught of blood the vampire took from his neck. And then the world lost all color and dimmed to black. Before he lost track of, well… everything, he was made to swallow something. Something that was thick and tepid, and was life and death, he said. Then he was floating somewhere that was both timeless and spaceless. At some point he understood that he needed to come to me. That was how he found himself standing in front of my vanity.

But there were a few things he knew without having seen them, too. Like home truths.

For instance, he knew that he was buried and where he was buried. I was shocked to learn that it was only about half a mile from my house. He also knew that he would rise the following night.

"So, what can I do for you?" I asked, feeling lost.

"I want you to come get me tomorrow, Sookie. I… don't know if I can… I'm afraid," he said with the frankness which was absolutely disarming. Robbing me of any reasons I may have considered for saying no, actually.

Tears sprung to my eyes at the thought that someone could come to rely on me so much. It was truly a powerful feeling. I jumped off the bed to give Dermot a necessary 'it'll-be-alright' hug, but checked my impulse when I remembered he was a ghost. Well, sort of. My arms would probably go right through him.

"Of course, I'll come and get you, Dermot. I'll bring True Blood so you can… feed, and I'll bring Eric or Pam or even Bill. They can even give you some initiation counseling or whatever it is you guys need when you wake up."

"Alright. Thank you Sookie. Oh, and… I know I am supposed to pass my legacy right now, but I think… since I'll still be here I might be in need of the little I got." Dermot looked heart-breakingly ashamed.

"Dermot, of course you will need it! Don't even think about it." I didn't really know what to say to make him feel better. I was at a total loss.

"Can you pass on to Claude that I love him very much? He's been like a brother to me these last couple of months, and since I'll be a vampire, I don't think I'll be able to see much of him now," he said in a shaky voice. I saw a couple of silvery tears leave his eyes and roll down his translucent cheeks and my heart broke again. The sight would have been breathtaking if it wasn't so tragic.

"Sure I will, Dermot. Claude loves you a load, too." Claude would be devastated when he found out.

"Okay. Thank you, Sookie. I think I need to go now," he said, as he started to get thinner and thinner, and not in form, but in substance.

I watched helplessly as the last few whiffs of my uncle Dermot's ghost dissipated. I was so shocked that I actually felt calm. Right now, Felipe's plans for me and the loss of my job seemed so insignificant and far away. All that mattered was that yet another one of my family had fallen victim to the damn vampire feuds. I simply had to find who was behind this and why.

I reached for my watch, which was lying on the nightstand by the bed. 4.30 – Fangtasia would be long closed, but it was still over an hour before dawn, so Eric should be up.

Grabbing my cell phone, I dialed his number and waited. The first time, the call went to voicemail again. Damn it, Eric, where are you? I was beyond being polite and dialed again. This time, after three rings Eric picked up.

"Sookie? I'm a little busy here," he said in a voice full of tired tenderness.

"Eric, I'm sorry to bother you, but something has happened, and I need help." I sounded hurt and a little bitter.

"Dear one, can it wait for tomorrow night?"

Eric had never been so dismissive of me before. It cut to the quick.

"Yes, fine. I'll cope," I said coldly and hung up without saying good bye.

I knew that if I had said no, he'd listen and help out. I didn't know what made my pride flare up with such bad timing. Well, to be honest, I did. It was how things between me and Eric stood after Appius's death. I was sure it was not a wise thing to let my pride and hurt take this one over, but… so many buts. Eric must be seriously busy. I'd better not interrupt a meeting with Victor or someone even more important.

A part of me hoped he'd call back. That he'd feel my anxiety through the bond and land on my porch fifteen minutes from now, hold me for half an hour up until dawn made it impossible and go to sleep in my light-tight hole under the closet in my old bedroom.

But he didn't. And it was a bitter gall to swallow. Fine then. I petulantly decided that I wouldn't call on him tomorrow night. I asked for help, he asked if I could wait. I could. He knew I needed him; the ball was fielding his court now.

Having settled that in my head, I picked a change of fresh clothes and went to the shower[k2] . It was no use getting back to bed anyway.

A good shower had always been like a first aid kit to me. First, scrub myself clean using every single beauty product I owned. Then condition my hair, shave, towel dry, slap on some body lotion and brush. Of course, the perfect topping to a perfect shower would be if Eric brushed my hair for me. And we would get carried away and end up needing another shower. But I never did mind that.

Thinking of Eric, I felt another pang of sadness, and then it hit me. There was an elusive 'wrong!' sign I kept noticing as if out of the corner of my eye, but I could never peg it down. When we were on the phone less than half an hour ago, he didn't call me 'lover'. When I started thinking about it, I realized that he hadn't called me 'lover' for a longer period than I cared to remember.

I felt something heavy, icy and painful wrap around my heart, squeeze it, tug it down. It was a familiar feeling. The last time I experienced it was two years ago when Bill's ever so important computer database started taking over my place in his life.

I hated it.

Screwing my eyes shut, I firmly pushed the feeling aside till I could afford time and strength to deal with it and got dressed. Summers in Northern Louisiana are hot and humid. They frizz up your hair and make your fingers stick together. I put on skimpy shorts and a white tank top that covered as little skin as I could safely get away with, grabbed my purse and went out. I had a lot of things to do.

The first thing on my list was visiting Claude's apartment in Monroe. I had to be the one to tell him. I drove with my radio off and windows down. The air, rushing into the car from doing eighty on the highway, whipped my hair into a very pretty, natural do. One that Eric so loved. Whenever I drove to Shreveport to see him, I left with my hair still wet and drove this way. I usually loved feeling pretty, but today I just needed the air and wind about me, screw the hair.

It turned out Claude was not home. It was still early, not even eight, so I figured he might be sleeping over at whatever lover's house he took last night. Leaving a note on his door that it was imperative that we see each other ASAP, I drove back to Bon Temps. I got out at the liquor store and bought a few cases of blood. I didn't know Dermot's preference (hell, _he_ didn't know his preference yet), so I made sure all types were there. Then I drove to Wal-Mart and bought a nicer mattress, sheets, pillows and pillowcases. I knew vampires don't get affected by weather temperature, but I bought a warm blanket nonetheless.

I also picked a few issues of Vampire Health and V, the new vampire lifestyle magazine. Not sure why I got those, but I thought it was an appropriate thing to give to a new vampire.

Doing chores made me feel needed, and feeling needed made me feel better, so I drove home with a feeling that I could shoulder whatever was coming my way.

Claude was sitting at the table in the kitchen, an untouched mug of tea long gone cold between his hands. He looked like the soggiest, saddest, most beautiful leaden rain cloud.

I stopped at the doorway and felt my eyes getting wet around the rims.

"Hey, Claude," I said, in a disgustingly bright voice. "How was your night?"

He jerked, as if startled from a daze, and looked at me in surprise.

"Sookie. I just… I had this feeling yesterday and needed air. I went to the portal to maybe talk to someone from back there. But I guess they have sealed it for good." Well, for once I was wrong about Claude fixing all his problems with a quick screw.

Claude looked lost, and it was a disconcerting look for the arrogant, blunt fairy I knew, who usually had the tact and the self-confidence of a rampaging rhino.

"Did something happen, Sookie?" Claude asked. "I feel like something has happened and—"

"It's Dermot," I interrupted him and willed myself not to cry. Quite uselessly, as usual. "Someone made him a vampire. He came to me last night as a… as, you know, like you guys do when you die. He'll rise tonight [k3] and need my help. That's why he came to me, because he's not really dead."

The last time I saw Claude so conflicted and in so much pain was when he came to talk to me after his sister Claudine died, and I spent all twenty minutes of our struggled conversation waiting for him to strike out and deliver the final blow.

I closed my eyes and stood completely still, as if waiting for some kind of cosmic retribution to smack me in the head. Instead, I got wrapped in a big, warm fairy hug.

Claude cried like a baby. Neither I nor he had very many relatives to spare and both had already lost too many. It felt good not to cry alone, so I cried with him, for all I've lost, recently and in the past.

Some time later, after we both felt like empty tear vessels , had made each other drinks and fetched comfort food, sniffling and confused, my doorbell rang. Claude, who, unlike me, still looked gorgeous with puffy eyes, red nose-tip and tear streaks (if anything, I think it made women want to comfort him, preferably horizontally and sans clothes, even more), went to answer it while I ran to the bathroom to splash some water on my face.

"Sookie, it's someone for you!" I heard him yelling a minute later.

I hurried to the door and saw a tall, scrawny man standing on my porch. His reserved, expensively unremarkable suit screamed 'lawyer'. He had striking white skin and dark, thick hair that looked rather unmanageable. His eyes were bright yellow and his pupils were fiery feline slits. I would have thought he had put on a pair of those contacts they sell in Halloween stores, but then my eyes caught his feet. His two huge _left_ feet. And I mean, literally left.

I forcibly stopped myself from staring like a rude five-year-old and felt my mouth stretch in a perfunctory smile.

"Hello, how may I help you?" I said to my demonic guest.

"Are you Miss Sookie Stackhouse?" he said in a deep, lilting voice which didn't go with his gangly frame.

"The very one."

"I'm Mr. Karahalios, Ma'am." His undoubtedly friendly smile revealed a set of sharp, dangerous-looking teeth.

"Pleased to meet you, sir, what can I do for you?" I said and wondered why all demon lawyers had Greek last names.[k4]

"I have a parcel for you, Miss Stackhouse." Mr. Karahalios produced a large, fat manila envelope and handed it to me.

My eyes couldn't help but slip and wander back to his left feet. He noticed and gave a chilling, shrill laugh, which somehow was still sincere and absolutely not unkind.

"Oh, that. I apologize, Ma'am. I don't get to deal with humans all that often," Mr. Karahalios said and did a strange kind of blurry feet shuffle, after which one of his feet became right. And thankfully, it was the correct one. I decided not to tell him he'd have to do more than that if he wanted to blend in.

Before I could demonstrate my shining southern hospitality and invite him in for a glass of iced tea, he gave me and Claude a gallant nod and said that he must get going.

I saw a black, sleek BMW, parked in my driveway, with its windows darkened within an inch of their lives. Mr. Karahalios waved us goodbye, jumped in the car with the same jaunty, catlike grace and drove off.

Claude was giving me strange looks.

"Some weird acquaintances you're keeping here, cousin," he said warily.

"It's the first time I've seen the man, didn't you hear him introducing himself?"

"Yes, but whoever hired him must be someone. Karahalios is an ancient demon family. This one is full-fledged demon. You don't get to hire someone like him if you're not some big bump on the road."

Oh, ok, well, it wasn't anything new for me. I've seen those big bumps enough to last me a lifetime.

We went inside to finish our iced teas. Claude kept eying the envelope with distaste and I felt it would be plain rude to go to my room to open it, since I didn't want him to see what was in there. So I decided that whoever sent it to me could tolerate to wait a few more hours, and Claude and I went about making my light-tight hidey-hole Bill had built back when he used to spend a lot of nights in my house more suitable as a permanent resting place.

First, we double-checked that it was indeed light-proof. Then we laid out the ground with a few pieces of cardboard and threw an old rug on top. I arranged the mattress, bed linens and pillows that I had bought earlier today, and even managed to make it look comfortable and somewhat inviting. Claude insisted on throwing an extension chord with a few sockets down and brought a nightlight and a cooler. After a few hours of labor, the place looked better than ever.

In a passing flash, I thought about how I wouldn't be able to house another vampire in my home now, but for all I knew, it looked like that other vampire was less than willing to spend time here. I sighed heavily and went to the kitchen to fix an early dinner for me and my helpful fairy cousin.

Nightfall was drawing near, and I had a newborn vampire to meet and introduce to his new life.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: All the regular disclaimers aply here. I'd like to thank all the lovely people who leave me reviews - you keep my fingers typing away, guys, and also those who alerted and favourited. And a special, Eric-shaped thank you goes to **Kristen**, who is truly a wonderful beta. Here's chapter 3, in which we finally see a lot of our dear Viking. Hope you enjoy.

Thank you to **yahaira **for pointing out a few things :) bad, bad inattentive me for leaving my beta comments in! All fixed now.

~oOo~

I ate my dinner in restless solitude. Claude had informed me right after we had finished improving Dermot's lodgings-to-be that he needed something from his home in Monroe and had driven off with a frown on his face. Putting Claude's share of fried chicken and roast potatoes in the oven, I realized I had cooked for three, as I got used to doing in the last few weeks. My poor tear ducts. I felt an already familiar prickle when I remembered that Dermot would not be joining us for his favorite simple meal tonight. Or ever.

Angrily swiping at my eyes, I stomped out of the kitchen in search of something to do. There was still over an hour to kill before sunset, and having done every possible chore around house, all I could do was kill time and fight all of my misgivings before Claude, whom I promised to wait for, returned.

I sat on the swings and tried to piece together what I knew about newborn vampires. As it appeared, I knew very little. I only ever heard of their 'waking' experiences first-hand from Pam. Then there was Jake Purifoy, the were-turned-vampire in Hadley's apartment who had attacked me after being held in stasis and ultimately awoken by Amelia Broadway's spell. And if I had any choice, this was not the knowledge I wanted to rely on in my dealings with Dermot tonight.

I wondered how hungry he would be and whether he'd be able to see it was me before he thought I'd pass for his first ever vampire snack. An unwelcome thought of Bill and me in the trunk of that Lincoln flickered through my mind, and I shuddered. I really had nothing to put against a hungry vampire. Letting my pride have his its way with me by not telling Eric of all this yesterday seemed like the stupidest thing I'd done in a while.

At that moment, a car pulled over into the driveway, and I ran to see that it was Claude. He hopped out gracefully from the driver's seat, and my eyes went wide with amazement. Claude was wearing a stunning knee-length chain mail suit made of what looked like pure silver. Its craftsmanship was a thing of beauty, and I doubted any form of modern human technology could have reached this level of finery yet. The chain mail was covered in an intricate design and had a flare to it that no metal should allow. Claude's dark chestnut hair was swept up into a high pony tail, and he looked like one of the shiny elves from Lord of the Rings movie. Except he looked better: those elves were played by humans, and Claude had this flawlessness about him that only being a full-blooded, born and bred fairy could give.

I scraped my jaw off the floor and said, "You certainly clean up well, cousin."

"You like what you see?" Claude was never one to dismiss a compliment, however off-handed. It tickled his vanity, which was much bigger than the slight fairy.

"What in the world is this? It looks silver," I asked, coming up to him and touching the hem of the unusual garment. It felt cool and smooth and something else, something which I couldn't define. Perhaps, the best word would be _alien_.

"It's my fighting gear, back from the old days. Made in Faery," Claude answered seriously.

"Your fighting gear?" I was hardly credulous.

Claude caught on my mistrust and said a bit acidly, "Yeah well, before I decided showing off my body for money was the best thing to do in the world, I participated in a war or five. And sometimes we even fought vampires."

I felt immediately ashamed. Claude was a world class jerk alright, and his social skills were in serious need of evolution, they were still on caveman (or cavefairy) level most of the time, but he meant well, at least where I was concerned. He saved fme and was there for me when I needed him most.

"I'm sorry, Claude, I didn't mean to be rude. It's just… astounding to see you like this." And it was astounding, trust me.

"'ss okay, cuz. You haven't known me long enough to know, right?" Claude was very benevolent today.

"I guess not." I gave out a sad laugh. He was one of my glaringly few surviving relatives, and I didn't even know how old he was. Some pathetic cousin I was. "How old are you anyway, Claude?" I asked in an attempt to rectify the situation.

"I'm actually just approaching my prime. I'm a little over two hundred years," he answered, with an unspoken 'so there's more depth to me than my shallow image suggests' firmly attached to it.

"So, fairy wars, huh?" I totally didn't know how to go about this conversation.

"Yep. I actually was a lieutenant to Niall," Claude said with not a little bit of pride. "I haven't worn this for over a century, though. I don't like wars, and it's a good thing we haven't had anything major to fight over of late. So, for the last hundred years or so, I've been living to the motto "make love, not war".

I snickered into my fist and decided to forego telling Claude that it hadn't even been fifty years of that particular one being tossed around.

"Aren't you a hippie," I said out loud instead.

"I'm not. But I still like to fuck more than to fight." That's my blunt fairy boy.

"So, I take it you're going with me?" I asked, giving his gorgeous outfit another look-over.

"You're not going alone. And Dermot is my uncle. I must be there."

"Aren't you afraid he's going to lose it as soon as he smells you?" I remembered how Eric and Pam were around Claudine. They didn't attack her right away, but judging by their glazed eyes and openly displayed fangs, it was an inevitable conclusion . And Eric and Pam were old, jaded, well-fed vampires, not a half-fairy fresh out of the grave.

"I'll stand far enough to pop out if something happens," Claude reassured me, "but you're not going alone.

"Okay," I replied and immediately felt better. If Eric didn't call before I absolutely had to go, at least I would not be alone. A fairy might have been more of a hazard than a means of protection in this situation, but it was a silver-clad fairy with experience in vampire-slaughter, and that had to mean something, right?

"You cooked fried chicken?" Claude asked at that moment, taking a whiff about the kitchen.

It snapped me out of some reverie, and, shooting a sunny smile in his general direction, I pulled his dinner out of the oven and fetched a jug of iced tea from the fridge.

"You are one demon of a cook, Sookie," Claude said, still looking beautiful, even when his mouth was stuffed with chicken and gravy was leaking out the corner.

Speaking of demons. A large manila envelope was still lying on top of my bed. I hastily excused myself, which was completely superfluous since my chicken and potatoes currently had Claude's undivided attention, and went to my bedroom.

Whatever was inside it was lightweight. I noticed that it didn't have a return address or the name of the sender on it. Just 'Sookie Stackhouse' written in bold, spiky script with what seemed to be actual ink. I tore through it with my manicure scissors and pulled out what seemed to be a very official and expensive looking card. It looked really old, even to my inexperienced eyes. It might even have been hundreds of years old. I ran a finger over the plain card. Not paper. Maybe it was parchment, but I could not tell for sure. I took a deep breath and opened it.

Inside was a portrait of a young girl and a lock of hair. The girl was a beautiful, blossoming teenager of maybe fourteen or fifteen. Of course, during the time she lived, she would be considered a grown woman ready to marry and have children. ItThe picture was probably drawn in coal pencil or whatever they used for black and white drawings back then. The girl was posing her head up and to the side, and I had a weird thought that the name Grace would suit her very well. Grace was everywhere about her –: in the slight turn of her neck and in the dreamy eyes and in elaborately arranged fingers, which touched her bare clavicle, cushioned by slight, elegant lace. The lines and the shading were so delicate, so exquisite I thought the artist must have taken great pains: he was either really well-paid or in love with his model.

The lock of hair was blond and curled bit, as if someone had been wrapping it around a finger often for a long time.

I wondered why someone would send me something like this. The 'Who?' question was even more intriguing. There was no inscription or dedication of any kind on the portrait, so the same question about the girl remained unanswered as well.

I gingerly put the card back into the envelope and stored it in a drawer. Perhaps Eric would smell it later and tell me if he could discern anything from the mix of scents it most probably bore by now.

The sun had already sunk below the woods line when I came back into the kitchen to see Claude rinsing his dishes. The chain mail just added to the absolute absurdity of the scene. I checked the silly laugh which was about to escape my mouth and grabbed a case of True Blood. Dermot gave me very clear directions to his grave, and there was no point dawdling any longer.

In grim silence, my silver-clad protector and I moved a little off the old cemetery and parallel to Bill's land, deeper into the forest. We walked about half a mile and were standing on the edge of a little gully that sloped gently down when I saw _it_. The patch of bare, freshly turned land under a large sycamore. It stood out from the rest of the area, which was covered with years' worth of dead foliage.

"This is about how far I can safely go with you, Sookie," Claude said, putting his hand on my shoulder and staring down at Dermot's grave.

"I understand." And I really did.

"This way is West from down there," he said pointing, "so you should always be able to see me standing here, even when it gets darker." He handed me my large flashlight and motioned for me to go forward.

I suddenly understood that amidst my hasty preparations I absolutely forgot to arm myself with at least a silver chain. I sighed. Even a thought of arming against Dermot was repulsive.

Claude seemed to have a glimpse inside my mind for an instance, because he procured a thin silver weapon, which was either a large dagger or a small sword. He half-drew it out of its sheath to show me.

"If something happens…" He seemed to have a problem finishing that particular thought, but i didn't need actual words to understand what he meant. He was ready to kill Dermot for me.

I gave Claude a quick impulsive hug and a peck on the cheek, grabbed the blood and strolled down. The sun had set.

Putting the case of blood next to the grave, I took one bottle in my hands, trying to warm it up. I knew it was most probably useless, but it gave my hands something to occupy themselves with to keep from thumb-twiddling.

A weak tingle in the bond roused me from my musings. Eric was awake. It felt much vaguer now than it used to be. Perhaps, because of the giant painful hole Alexei and Appius left, or perhaps because we haven't taken each other's blood for a long time. It had been so long since Eric hadn't fed from me for that I didn't have a single bite mark left on my body. They all had since long healed.

Had someone asked me a couple of years ago whether I'd get upset over not having a vamp brand anywhere on my body, I'd laugh at their face. Or kick them in the shins.

~oOo~

Almost an hour later or so my anxiety gave way to a different type of frustration. Claude and I played the City Game for a while, though it proved to be challenge to yell city names to each other over the rustling of leaves and chirruping of small birds and crickets. Then he related the latest goings-on in his club. And then I started to get antsy. I had this weird, itchy feeling of being on the verge or something. I stood up and paced, the bottle of blood forgotten.

A quick glance over at Claude told me that he was standing unusually still, and I thought that his hand was resting on something that was probably the hilt of his small blade.

But then a sudden wave of calmness washed over me, and three seconds later Eric walked out of the woods from the lee side.

I gave a small yelp of surprise, and in the next moment I was nosing his chest. Our difficulties be damned. For one blissful moment, before all the things between us started to seep in, I wanted to relish in the joy, comfort and contentment that being next to Eric had always given me. And for one moment, which was all too short, I did exactly that.

Eric gently pried my hands away from his strong, lean body and lifted my face up to look me in the eyes.

"All I ever have to do to find you, Sookie, is to follow a fairy scent," his face and tone betrayed no emotion, but at this proximity the bond lightly pulsed with worry and puzzlement and something else, something I didn't like. The only thing I could compare it to would be what I had always felt when Jason pulled something stupid for the millionth time after swearing it off on a stack of Bibles as tall as myself.

I pushed the uncomfortable feeling aside, dizzy with relief. _He came, he came, he came_, my brain happily chanted, refusing to let any other thoughts take over for a few blessed seconds.

"Eric, you've come," I whispered to him, and I sounded miserable even to myself.

"Of course I did, dear one," he said, patting my hair soothingly. I felt his worry and bemusement through the bond.

"What is going on here, Sookie? You're keeping vigil at what looks to be a fresh grave and your—is that fae army silver on him?—your cousin is manning the approach march like a Legolas wannabe?" there was a hint of humor in his voice, but worry easily prevailed. At other times, I'd have taken a minute to be amused by this ancient vampire's sudden albeit scrappy knowledge of pop culture, but not today.

"Oh Eric." I felt my face crumple helplessly. "Someone killed Dermot and made him a vampire. He came to me and asked me to get him because his maker apparently abandoned him. I was trying to tell you yesterday, but—" Then I remembered that I was actually upset with him, "what was it that you couldn't even spare me a minute anyway?"

I watched two perfect dark blond eyebrows knit together in a frown.

"Someone killed your uncle on your land? Someone actually managed to turn a half-fairy, is that what you're telling me?" He sounded too doubtful for my taste.

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm telling you," I snipped, exasperated. "And what's up with turning half-fairies? It's not like it's all that hard to stick your bleeding wrist to a mouth of a dying person."

"_Dying_, Sookie, is the key word here. Dermot had so much fairy blood in him that no vampire I know of would be able to keep him dying long enough to turn him. Not a single vampire would be able to stop at the right time. This is just beyond suspicious. Whoever did this it is very, very dangerous." Eric looked truly disturbed.

"Yeah, then it takes the whole mess to a new level," I mumbled to no one in particular and looked at Eric expectantly.

"Sookie, this was most foolish of you to come out here alone," he scolded, and I did not like the sound of it one bit. His voice took a reproachful tone and a cold cadence he seldom used with me. "And you should have told me yesterday. This is a serious offense, and it was committed on the territory where I'm sheriff.

Okay, this just got to me. I felt white-hot fury rise in me like lava to the top of a volcano, ready to explode. Sheriff, my perky round ass.

"Oh, so it's not that I lost someone I love, or that he was made vampire against his will, or that his maker abandoned him to cope as well as he can, that is important to you. But that it happened on your damn turf, Sheriff?" I gritted through clenched teeth.

I felt a tiny sliver of cutting sadness rush through the bond and disappear as suddenly as if it were squelched deliberately.

On the outside Eric did not seem to extend any patience for me.

"I don't react well to my actions questioned that way" he said with the iciness that a glacier would envy. "I do worry about you, but it does not mean I don't care about what is going on around my _turf_."

I was immediately taken aback. Maybe it was uncalled for. I was too riled up to nitpick that now.

"What kept you so busy last night?" I said in a somewhat whiny voice, trying to redirect the storm.

Eric was immediately back to his composed, businesslike self. The 'for everyone' self.

"We had a… situation." He answered evasively.

Uh-oh. Knowing Eric, something dead -serious was going on.

"What kind of situation?" I asked hesitantly, and he looked at me as if he were actually considering whether it was worth the trouble to let me know.

When I was almost too hurt by his coldness to look away, needing a second to scramble my usual fake bright smile, he said, "Pam got in trouble."

"Is she ok?" I practically leapt with worry. Pam was the closest I had to a friend in the vampire world, and certain things have happened that brought us even closer. I mean, apparently, nothing is better for bonding than killing a couple of vampire thugs and covering the whole mess up together.

"She'll cope. But she gave me quite a headache yesterday." As if she could. Eric sounded like he was seriously displeased with his child. I wondered if she was being punished at this very moment.

"What happened?" I probed further.

"She fed on a couple of college kids who got doped on the wrong kind of meth. You wouldn't believe the things they mix into drugs these days. Sugar powder, detergent and niter being the most innocuous ones."

"Oh, god. How bad is it?" I cringed inwardly. Not that I knew what effects drinking blood with that kind of combo in it would have on a vampire, but judging by Eric's voice, Pam was in bad shape.

"Pretty bad," he said, resigned. "She needed a few clear blood donors to be able to function and she might need to sleep it off for a couple of nights. She has also lost a couple of hours in total oblivion before Indira found her and her unfortunate dinner passed out behind Fangtasia."

It sounded so un-Pam-like I would find it funny, if not for Eric's deadpan severe tone. Pam, the definition of sophisticated and collected, passed out in a ditch behind a bar. What is this world coming to?

"Are you going to punish her?" I asked, and again, a flicker of worry and sorrow fluttered through the bond, so fleeting I wouldn't have noticed it if the bond was not so empty of… of all the things it had always been full of before.

"I don't know," Eric answered honestly and suddenly looked at me for the longest moment.

I bore his scrutiny with what I thought was dignified openness, even though after a minute of facing his piercing look, all I wanted was to turn away, go pick up the blood bottle and try to rewarm it with my hands, send an okay sign to Claude—anything—to seem preoccupied and unperturbed.

Eric closed the distance between us slowly and took my face in his hands. His hold was lax and almost detached.

"I am sorry about your uncle Dermot, dear one." The pads of his thumbs brushed my cheekbones as he kept searching for something in my face. "I'll help you handle it, and everything will be fine."

"Is this the part where you tell me not to worry my pretty little head?" I murmured, mollified a little.

"No, this is the part where I state the fact that I'm not letting you fix this mess all by yourself." He chuckled. "And maybe later we will talk, you and I."

He sounded sincere and gentle, but something about the way he simply was today screamed 'off' to me. Well, maybe it wasn't only today, but for a few weeks already. But yeah, we would talk. I decidedly omitted the maybe part. I had enough of maybes with Bill and knew exactly where this road led. That innocent little maybe coming from Eric filled me with dread.

I remained silent, unable to find a reply less lame than 'um, yeah sure' and more appropriate for the here and now than 'why the hell are you being a goddamn vampire icicle, Eric Northman?' Eric took this opportunity to wrap his arms around me. I closed my eyes and let myself draw what peace and comfort his embrace had to offer.

He kissed me lightly on the forehead and then on each of my cheeks and dropped a barely-there peck on my lips. His touches smacked of something like guilt. I felt like curling into a ball and crying.

Feeling desperate, I felt for the bond and pushed as much love through it, as I could. Some hurt and confusion and pain may have gotten through on the tail end as well. He definitely felt it because he closed his eyes, and for a momentflicker of a second, I saw such pain etched into the dear, flawless features of his beautiful face, that I barely held a gasp and lowered my eyes till they safely stared at his chest. The bond felt hollow, but I had a distinct impression that something tumultuous was bubbling beneath a barely suppressed lid. Eric was definitely closing his end off.

Two long fingers tilted my chin up, a tender but insistent pressure.

"I know, my… Sookie," he said almost urgently, and I chose to believe he was answering to my half-assed attempt at an untimely love confession.

I blinked back a few tears, stepped aside and put a smile on.

When I was as collected as I could be under the circumstances, I waved to Claude, who swung his sword demonstratively back, and turned to Eric.

"So, what do newborn vamps—"

I was suddenly being pushed behind a the broad, solid back of my Viking. "Hush, Sookie," he said hoarsely.

Peeking out from behind Eric at what he apparently deemed was a safe distance from the grave, I saw fresh earth moving like in those fast-forwarded little movies on Discovery where they show the way plants grow.

A white, finely structured hand appeared, clenching and unclenching, grabbing fistfuls of earth. A few seconds later, Dermot emerged, his clothes ragged and stained in old crusted blood, his fine blond waves messy and dirty, with a few random sycamore leaves in them. But otherwise he was miraculously transformed. The change was so subtle and yet so evident and startling that I couldn't help but wish fiercely that I could have seen what Eric looked like when he was human.

Dermot's skin had an exquisite pallor to it and seemed translucent and utterly beautiful. His steely gray eyes stood out on his face. There was an inexplicable lissomness about him and a sharpness that I hadn't noticed in my uncle when while he was still alive. If I was to choose one word to describe the biggest overall change, I'd say there now was stillness in the way he looked. Like someone took a rare, fine photograph of him, and somehow it came alive and substituted the real Dermot.

For a moment, he stood there and stared at his hands, fingers outstretched and turning over, than gazed upwards to the sky in complete fascination and finally, Eric and I drew his gaze.

"Sookie," His voice was melodious, filling two simple syllables of my name with a fountain of acoustic sensations. It was mesmerizing to observe such a change, and I felt tears spring to my eyes. This time they were tears of wonder.

Eric seemed just as taken with the scene.

"Witnessing the birth of a vampire, watching the newborn take his first step is a miracle, a beautiful, breath-taking scene and a rare honor" he breathed out barely above whisper.

"Hello, Dermot, and, um, welcome. There's blood to your right." I said in a shaky voice.

"Thank you. I'm hungry," he answered in his familiar sweet and honest manner and uncapped a True Blood.

Eric still held me firmly behind him as we watched Dermot drink two True Bloods straight in a row.

"I smell Claude," he said, and both Eric and I tensed. My vampire uncle, however, was unfazed. "Sookie, why is he crying over there at the top of the hill?" he asked, worried.

"Dermot," Eric's voice was tentative and calming, as if he was speaking to a skittish animal. "Claude sure smells like finest blood mixed with a thousand orgasms and euphoria, but you have to control yourself. Drink more blood if it is necessary. You'll regret feeding on him if you give in."

"Feeding on him?" Dermot looked offended. "But I don't want to feed on him. I want to go to him and tell him I'm fine and to sooth him. I've missed him and Sookie."

To say I was amazed would be saying nothing at all.

"Wait a minute here, you don't want to drain his bones? His smell does not turn you into a pool of mindless, dangerous, fangy Jell-O?" I asked.

Eric gave me a look, but turned back to my uncle.

"No", came an absolutely open, frank answer. "Should it?"

Well, that was a first.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**. All the usual disclaimers apply. Again, a big, giant, Eric-shaped thank you to all those who let me know you read and like this story via reviews, Pms, alerts and all that. You're the reason I write and your opinion matters a great deal. This chapter was coming out very slowly, I kept re-doing it. My dear beta **Kristen **was of great help. So, here it goes. Hope you enjoy it, guys. Reviews are petted and fed cookies and milk (or martini and olives).

~oOo~

"Absolutely out of question, and we are done with this subject." Eric snapped with the finality of the proverbial last nail in the coffin.

"But Eric, look at him! He's gotta be the most gentle vampire to ever walk the night," I seethed, looking at Dermot, his eyes red around the rims, talking excitedly to Claude. The distance between us and them was big enough for Eric to focus on me and our conversation and only throw the occasional hungry glance in the direction of my fairy cousin.

"If he is unaffected by the smell of fairy blood, it does not mean he won't get hungry or unreasonable or out of control like all new ones do. And who is going to protect you then? Please stop being so difficult, Sookie, now is not the time." Eric was growing tired of arguing with me, if the two lines between his eyebrows were any indication.

"You can't make him leave and stay at whatever temporary hole you have at Fangtasia if he does not want to." My anger actually had almost nothing to do with Eric's intention to have Dermot bunk anywhere _but_ in my house for the unforeseeable number of nights to come; 'till he learns of our ways of control,' Eric had simply stated. I was just using this opportunity to release some of the thick tension between us.

"Oh, trust me, I can. And I will. Unless he wants to leave this area, he will answer to me and do my bidding," said Eric Northman, Sheriff of Area Five. Damn. I should have known he'd pull that card.

"But Claude and I made a home for him earlier. We made up a comfy bed with fresh linens, got him cases of blood and even a few Vamp magazines. He will feel welcome and at home there, and Fangtasia will only scare him." I knew I must have sounded pathetic, compared to Eric's iron-wrought logic, but I was past caring.

He sighed heavily, which he seldom did, since he didn't need to breathe, and fixed me with an annoyed glare. I took it as a sign of his utmost exasperation. Eric was going to be absolutely unmovable. This realization made me feel suddenly tired and weak and numb in a desirable, welcome way. I just wanted to… I guess I just wanted to stop thinking and worrying. I knew that the hurt of Eric's treatment would hit full force come morning, but for now I was grateful to take this break that exhaustion was offering.

"I'm tired," I mumbled, defeated, and turned around to walk home, letting Eric know wordlessly that he could take over from here. The last thing I wanted right now was for him to see me in this state: ready to cry and beg him for attention and comfort like a lost puppy.

"Sookie!" Claude's elated voice called to me and I couldn't help but smile a little, seeing how happy and overwhelmed he was. Small things, Sookie Stackhouse, it's all about the small things. 'If you still can enjoy the small things on an everyday basis,' Gran used to say, 'you can pull through.'

"Sookie, this is actually cool! Dermot's been telling me all the things he can see and feel differently now." Claude practically jumped with excitement. "It's not so bad, so you shouldn't mope. He could be working in my bar at nights, he would be quite an attraction, a fairy turned vampire."

"He now owes fealty to Sheriff of Area 5 and will do his bidding if he wants to stick around," I said with a great deal of venom and gestured with a bleak hand towards where Eric was in his element, telling Dermot what he could and could not do.

"Did you two have a falling out or something?" my cousin asked with an almost concerned expression.

"I don't know," I croaked, unable to hold my face together any longer.

"Come on, Sook, nose up. Nothing a good fucking wouldn't fix, I'm sure." My dear, tactless, well-meaning cousin.

"You sure do know how to make a girl feel better," I said through my tears, with sarcasm that Claude absolutely ignored.

"Of course, that's what cousins are for. Do you want me to beat the shit out of that bag of dead meat?" Claude made a dramatic pause and assumed a battle stance, which made the silver-clad fairy look even more gorgeous, if it was possible. I gawked, and Claude laughed, "I won't be able to, of course, and I'm not about to try, but I think it's the right thing to ask about now, right?"

Claude's ham-fisted, but absolutely guileless attempt to cheer me up wasn't really working, but for a minute I gave in to a sad, pathetic kind of laughter, wiping tears with the back of my hand and thinking that at least I had someone to turn to when things started to look sour.

"Eric won't allow Dermot to stay with us," I told Claude when my mini-fit of hysteria subsided.

"Maybe it's for the better, cuz. This is how he shows that he cares for you."

I chose not to side with Claude and my own rational part, which was eagerly agreeing with this notion, and huffed, folding my hands across the chest.

The evening drifted on and on in the ripe, summery murmur of the forest, as Claude and I sat at the foot of a large tree in wordless contemplation, while Eric gave Dermot an express How-To-Be-A-Vamp 1.0 at a distance.

I relished my fragile numbness and tried to concentrate on the slumbering woods and the windless night around me. After some time I couldn't even tell whether a few minutes or a few hours had passed.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Eric circling us. He moved with cat-like grace and kept throwing gilded glances at Claude.

"Hello, fairy," he said when he stopped at a safe distance and shot a fangy smile at my cousin. I felt a pang of pain when he all but ignored me, and made a silent statement by getting up and striding purposefully to Dermot, who was now finally free of his very damn responsible Sheriff.

"You're not my type, _vampire_, so back off," Claude drawled, rolling his eyes and sounding wonderfully bored. I had my back to my vampire (though I was not sure if I could use that particular possessive pronoun any more) and I sneered in grim satisfaction while mentally high-fiving my brash cousin. Eventually, I turned around.

"Ah, do not get your… whatever underwear you're wearing in a twist. If I were hitting on you, you'd… feel it, definitely. Though not for long," Eric's smile grew wider, and, if I say so myself, much more dangerous. His look dragged to me almost reluctantly, and I could tell, he was struggling to remain calm and nonchalant, with the divinely smelling Claude standing up-wind to him.

"I would actually like a word with my _wife_," he paused, probably to gauge my reaction, and I felt my hackles rise at such blatant provocation. The gall of that vampire, using this title like that. "And since you have apparently taken the role of her literal knight in shining armor, I'm forced to ask you to move your ass." I swear, Eric's nose crinkled with distaste.

Claude gave me a 'remember what I said' eyebrow wiggle and after underlining his point with a few lewd hand gestures, strolled without a word to Dermot, who was finishing off the case of Blood by now.

I was left face to face with the vampire, who was currently being the bane of my existence, and gathered my anger and pride around me like a cloak. Not meeting his eyes, I stared at the shimmer above his temple that graded into bright, golden hair. Good god, how I loved to nuzzle that spot.

I shook my head before my thoughts took me to the place I didn't care to visit right about now, out of fear of breaking down miserably right in front of the person who I least wanted to see me in this state . Ugh, did he have to look so excruciatingly desirable from head to foot every goddamn minute of goddamn night?

"How's Dermot?" I asked, my voice pitching a bit too high not to betray my total lack of casualness.

"He's well, he's good. He'll make a fine vampire and a great asset to my retinue." Good. The talk of retinues and assets was just the thing I needed to drag me back down to brown earth.

"Is it all you're thinking of? Your little piece of Louisiana?" I knew I was being unfair, but the little angry beast in me wanted to claw and tear.

"Sookie, you are perfectly aware that I can feel when you mean what you say and when you want to hurt me deliberately. Now is the latter case, and I want to know why you are doing this," Eric answered calmly, but I could feel exhaustion seeping into his voice.

Was he even serious? I tried to count backwards from ten, because the last thing I wanted was to start a ripping row. The kind where I'd be doing all the ripping.

"Eric, you can't be so clueless," I whispered.

He took the remaining few steps towards me and stared at me with frightening intensity.

His voice, however, betrayed none of it.

"I find myself very clueless about you as of late. It bothers me, too."

"What the hell happened to the Eric who could read me like an open book printed in giant letters in simple English?" I asked vehemently.

"I guess the same thing that happened to the Sookie which that Eric loved." The frankness, the absolute openness with which he said that and, especially, the past tense which he so carelessly tossed into the already full of barbed wire sentence, dragged across my heart, leaving bloody gashes.

"You do not love me anymore?" It came out as the gulp of a drowning person, and it took all of my willpower to hold my precariously trembling lower lip from pulling the rest of my face into a weeping tragedy.

"I do not know who I love anymore," again, the same detachment on the outside and the barely covered tumult I could feel was beating at the bond where he was forcefully tempering it.

"I want _my _Eric back," I said, apropos of nothing, like a whiny four-year-old asking for a favorite toy which was forgotten somewhere and could not be retrieved.

He looked at me for the longest time, as if trying to predict my reaction to something he was about to say.

"This is neither time nor place to have this conversation." Great. Viking taking a cop out.

"When is there time and place for this?" I asked his feet, feeling resigned and devastated. I could already feel the stretch of the long, lonely month or months ahead of me, coping with my load all by myself again, while Eric took his time figuring out whatever it was… that was plaguing him, on his own. I couldn't claim being very experienced relationship-wise, but I was sure this was not how couples went through times like these.

Suddenly, a funny thought fluttered through my head. I wondered if Eric's own experience in the emotional tangles of complicated relationships was even more squalid than mine. A ridiculous laugh was on the verge of escaping me if not for Eric's voice, which brought me back to our conversation.

"That would be your room, twenty minutes from now. And tell the fairy to scram." The last part was amplified specifically for Claude to hear. Claude may be blunt, but he always gets the gist of things when it's important. From the corner of my eye, I saw him give me an okay sign.

The whole way Eric was handling this situation was so contrary to what I had been expecting that I could do nothing but gape at him, rubbing my leaking eyes furiously.

"Ok," I mouthed, shocked into total lack of anything else to say.

Eric's look slid down to my lips, and for a moment I thought he was going to kiss me. Good God, but Claude was right. Sometimes rushing into it head first just worked better; maybe a good night of screwing ourselves into oblivion would help. Before I could do anything about this thought, however, there was a shift in my reality and a gust of wind that followed. Eric took off flying.

I looked over where Claude and Dermot were picking up the empty True Blood bottles to take them home and deposit them in the garbage can. A cold, spidery feeling of guilt was tickling my insides. I had come here for Dermot and so far had barely even said one word to him, opting to waddle through my own problems instead. And, as compared to becoming a whole new being, a few bumps (however painful) on the road two that people travel looked increasingly petty. I marched over to Dermot with purpose.

"Sookie!" He turned around when I was still a few yards away, hearing my footsteps.

"Dermot, I'm so sorry about this mess. How are you feeling?" I stretched my hands out with the intention to hug him, something that has become a conditional reflex upon my side during the last few weeks.

Instead of stepping in to close his arms around me as the Dermot I used to know would have done, the new Dermot retreated hastily, a look of pain marring his beautiful, now pallid face. He looked like a weaker solution of his former ruddy liveliness, but acquired another sort of appeal. He'd be definitely turning women's heads now. Not that he hadn't before, I supposed.

"Sookie, I can't. Eric will rip my fangs off if I come closer to you than this. I have to keep my distance, at least for the time being, while I'm still… fresh," Dermot said, genuine hurt lacing his voice.

Of all the complacent, domineering vampires! I felt a breath hitch in my throat in helpless anger. I could just picture those beautiful, smug lips forming the exact same words.

Pressing my lips together in an inhuman attempt to restrain the tears of powerless rage, I stomped off in the direction of my house. Someone was going to get a piece of my mind.

I ran home like the wind, flogged into action by the fury that boiled in me so strongly, I wouldn't be surprised to see actual blisters on my skin.

When I looked at the clock on the mantelpiece in the living room, I realized it wasn't even midnight yet. I sighed and tried to bring it home to my entire body that the night was only starting. And boy, did it protest already.

Eric was lounging on the couch in the living room, snuggled in the ugly, threadbare coverlet he hated so much, with the air of the owner of universe. Point made, Sheriff.

I have to admit that if I saw him showing any signs of concern or repentance, I might have caved and let go of all the fight in me. But seeing his impudent indulging in the moment, the expression on his face of the man who thought there were only two points of view—his and wrong—spurred my anger exponentially.

"Who do you think you are, forbidding Dermot to even come around me?" I demanded venomously as I stopped right in front of him, my hands on my hips.

He regarded me lazily, not even batting a damn eyelash while I was practically trembling with emotion. Then he got up, with typical ease and elegance, as if he were entertaining a random acquaintance at a high-society soiree, and went to the window.

"I have reported these recent events and filed the case with the higher authorities. It is now registered as official offence, and there will be an investigation. When Dermot's unfortunate maker is found, he or she will suffer a severe punishment. A public one, at that."

Right now, I couldn't care less about Dermot's _unfortunate maker_.

"That is all fine and dandy, but it doesn't answer my question." I cringed at the frigidness of my own voice. It was as cold as the damn endless winters in Siberia. Never in my life had I imagined talking like this to Eric.

"I wasn't going to answer your question, Sookie, because the answer is obvious enough for you to understand without me having to voice it." There was a finality in his tone brooked no argument.

With a tremendous effort I clamped down on my urge to rant and rave at him about taking over my life and the people in it like that. There were more important issues.

"Fine. I'll deal with it tomorrow. Let's have that talk," I bristled to his back and hugged my arms around my chest.

Eric turned around, and his face completely belied his harsh, careless words. He looked sad. Grieved. Devastatingly so. It took all I had in me not to throw myself at him in the only consolation method I could think of right now. Instead I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, bracing for whatever was to come.

"Are you sure," he asked slowly, obviously picking his way through the verbal minefield, "That you want to have this conversation right now, when you're all riled up and seeing red with me in the middle?"

"I want to put it behind me, Eric," I answered with the same careful deliberation. Taking a pause and looking him directly in the eye, I shot at the hip, "It's Appius, is it?"

For an eternity of a torturous few seconds, all the answer I got was a blank stare. It was long enough for me to cram a hundred of horrendous scenarios in my brain, starting from 'I think I'm in love with someone else' and ending with 'I loaned you out to Felipe, indefinitely.

"You stood there, with a stake in your hand. You would have done it." Eric's absent voice interrupted my little mental horror movie suddenly.

"Is this why you're acting this way? Because I was ready to kill a murderous sociopath? To set you free of him, once and for all?" I could hardly believe what he was telling me. "For god's sake, Eric, he was a dangerous outlaw! He forced himself on you! He and this… Alexei—" I couldn't even bring myself to refer to him as 'boy'—"They wreaked havoc in your life within just a few days. And all you could do was sit around on your ass and wait it fucking out!"

I knew it would strike a cord. If Eric had to be defined in one word, it would be control. Various degrees of control, most of them reaching hundred per cent, that's what Eric was.

In one fluid motion, moving with vampire speed, he was right in front of me, eyes ablaze with almost otherworldly gleam.

"Do not assume you know every nuance of a vampire's relationship to his maker," Eric growled in a tone so low and steely, it reminded me exactly why I was scared witless of him two years ago.

"Yeah, sure, I know shit about your damn makers!" I practically yelled, equally incensed. I had enough trouble with vampires and their damn makers to last me two lifetimes.

My use of the plural 'maker_s_' was not lost on Eric. If possible, his face became even more stone-hard than it was before.

"Appius was a thousand times the vampire that whore Lorena could ever hope to be!" Eric thundered, and I understood that something very derogatory about Lorena's progeny was clearly at the tip of his tongue.

"Just listen to yourself, Eric! You are defending an abusive asshole and all the reasoning you're giving is that he is your maker?" Fuck, did that sound eerily familiar. Did I ever imagine I'd go down that road with Eric? Hell, no.

"I had learned to love him, Sookie. Because I could either do that, or remain miserable for the rest of eternity. And I'll meet the sun before I subside to spending my nights embittered, ruined for any sort of enjoyment and looking over my shoulder all the time like _some. _So, I adapted. And you had no right to make this decision for me," Eric hissed back, and I knew with perfect clearance who these some _were_. All I had to do to look at an example was to go across the cemetery.

I wasn't even going to mention the irony of Eric last statement, even though I was currently talking to the absolute king of making decisions for other people while frequently disregarding their opinions. We would get carried so far away, I'd never be able to get myself back on track before dawn forced an end to our conversation.

Filing this away in a seemingly ever growing pile of unresolved issues between Eric and myself, I said, with probably a little too much disdain, "Yeah, you adapt. That's what you do. Like a virus. When something doesn't turn up the way you planned, you say that you adapt to it, and it becomes right just like that, at a click of your fingers. Well I don't do that. I fight for things I need to be the way I need them!"

Eric's face molded into a beatific smile which had a terrifying edge to it I couldn't quite place. Like he was looking indulgently at an atrociously spoilt child pulling a very evil prank.

"Yes, Sookie, I do adapt. Flexibility is the number one rule of survival. Sometimes I forget just how young and brief you are. You think you can change things around you, but in truth you can only change your attitude towards them, and it is the only thing you can change. Almost always."

"This is the most cynical thing I've heard! Even coming from a vampire." I felt tears pooling all over again and bit my lip in an attempt to hold them back.

Eric's long-fingered pale hand reached out and he tugged my lip from my teeth with a gentle thumb.

"Don't do that," he whispered. "You know, Sookie, one thing I just can't adapt to? One thing I can't wrap my brain around?" His thumb brushed my lower lip with a barely there caress which was killing all the anger in me. I just wanted to test Claude's advice on making up.

"What is it?" I asked, a barely audible exhale of breath.

His other hand moved into my hair, taking out the clip in a deft movement.

"It is my generous, compassionate, forgiving lover, who is usually willing to give a second chance to almost any being in this universe, standing there with murder in her beautiful eyes, ruthless and assuming she can judge who deserves to be sent to final death and who does not. And I find myself at a loss of what to do, which I hate. I also find myself unwilling and unable to adapt to that, which I hate even more. You say you want _your_ Eric back. Your Eric wants _that_ Sookie back, too." His voice, just as his hands, was ever so tender. That was the voice he usually used when he whispered sweet or obscene nothings in my ear while moving inside me. The baffling contradiction between the voice and the callous meaning of his words raked across my insides like a rusty, blunt can opener.

I don't know what regretful things might have escaped my mouth then and there if not for the phone, which broke the sickly spell I seemed to be subsiding to.

"Saved by the bell," I heard Eric mutter bitterly, as I reached for the receiver of my salvation, not even giving the subject of who may be calling me at midnight and for what ghastly reasons a second thought.

"Sookie?" Remy's tentative voice broke into my whirling mind. "I'm so sorry to call you at this hour, but I figured since you're, you know, run with vampires a lot you might be keeping odd hours." He said the 'run with vampires' part so casually and easily and with such pleasant lack of judgment, I found myself smiling wanly at the receiver. But then I remembered about the lateness of the hour.

"Oh God. Did something happen to Hunter?" A giant pit of consuming blackness was forming in my stomach.

"No, no, Hunter is fine! Sorry… I knew calling at this time might give you the wrong idea, but I was just… I couldn't wait till tomorrow. A vampire came to see me about Hunter today. He knew our address and where I work and everything. He mentioned Hadley and you. He said he is your friend and was there on your errands or something along those lines. Asking questions and all."

I saw Eric, who, obviously could hear the entire conversation as clearly as if someone was shouting it into his ear, strain and give me a look.

"A vampire?" I asked, trying to buy myself time to form all the right questions with Eric listening right there.

"Yeah. Slim, tall, dark-haired. Smiles a lot, but kinda like a shark seeing a piece of meat."

Victor. That description left very little room for doubt. Victor did have a distinct air of intensity and forwardness about him. Exactly like a shark going after a harbor seal. I felt cold tendrils of fear crawl down my spine.

"And he said he came from me?"

"Yes, so I just wanted to know what that's all about." Remy didn't sound worried. More like annoyed slightly.

I desperately wanted to know what Remy told him, but I couldn't ask in front of Eric. Hunter's little quirk was a secret even he did not know.

"Remy, I did not send anyone and I will look into it. Don't talk to him and don't invite him to your house." I said feeling completely lame and useless. As if Remy could stop Victor if he was on a mission.

"I've been thinking of taking Hunter to see my mother in Texas. Maybe I should finally make that trip now." Remy, God bless his heart and his smart head.

"That's actually a brilliant idea. It would be perfect if you could get on the road come morning," I blabbered, smiling into the receiver brightly.

"Well, it's settled then," he said and paused. "Sookie?"

"Yes, Remy?"

"I don't want any harm to come to Hunter, you know?" the statement was absolutely loaded, and I swallowed heavily.

"Yes, Remy. I promise, he'll be fine. You both will." It was the most empty, most meaningless promise I had ever given in my life.

"Ok. Right. Goodnight then," Remy said and hung up.

I sighed, relieved that he did not mention Hunter's telepathy.

"So, why would Victor Madden visit your little cousin, Sookie?" Eric asked, with conviction in his voice. To hope he wouldn't be making a few educated guesses of his own would be an exercise in futility.

"I don't know, Eric," I lied smoothly. "Maybe he plans to get to me this way. He's been after me for a while.

Deep inside I prayed he would let it go, but the phone interrupted us once more.

I picked it up urgently, hoping it would save me yet again.

"Sookie, I forgot to tell you," Remy's voice came from the other end of the line. I listened with baited breath, hoping that he'd forgotten to tell me Hunter asked to say hello or something equally innocent. "That vampire said that Hunter's ability could be developed, if he trained from early age. That he'd surpass you. They offered help in training, too."

He kept saying something else, but I didn't hear. I was looking at Eric, whose face screamed 'betrayed, wounded, deceived' and a whole plethora of most horrible things simultaneously.

"Yeah, Remy. I'll call you back about that," I said absently, and hung up, preparing myself for the storm to come.

Eric's eyes shone as bright as if he was about to cry, real human tears.

"Quite a secret you kept from me here, _lover_," he said in a deadly whisper. For the first time that lover sounded as an intended insult.

He opened the window, without looking back even once, and at the next second I was completely alone in the room.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N. All the disclaimers apply, as usual. Guys, I hope you're liking this. It gets harder to write :) Thank you to my dear **Kristen**, for her help and hand-holding, and listening to me whine about things. I also hope everyone had a good start of the week. We are having a horrible heat streak, all above 100 since mid june, and it's just crazy for somewhere so far up North and so far inland. Here's hoping the weather is milder where you are.

This chapter is shorter than I usually go for. It is actually a half of a longer chapter. I felt a need to split it, so it wouldn't be two packed and so that I could add a juicy scene to the end of the following one. Well, and so that I can cram two updates within a short period. I hope you enjoy it. I'd like to thank all those people who left me a note, especially those who share continuously, you are a blast! Now, to the chapter.

~oOo~

I woke up feeling like I had been unloading a mile-long train carrying huge potato sacks all night long, all by myself. To top that marvelous sensation, my eyes were puffy and red-rimmed beyond the repair even the most expensive instant bag remover cream would offer. Not like I owned one, anyways.

Groaning with frustration and pain, I dragged my protesting body to the bathroom.

The entirety of all that had passed between Eric and myself the other night rained on me along with the stream of water from the shower. I might have cried a few more tears which soon became indistinguishable from the mix of suds and soapy bubbles until the water started running cold. And even then, I still lingered in front of the mirror, wrapped in a comfortable warm towel which provided zero comfort or warmth.

My shower of misery was interrupted by the loud banging on the bathroom door.

"Sook, quit with the waterworks already, in both meanings of the word," Claude's impatient but not entirely uncaring voice came, muffled by the closed door.

When I didn't answer, my unceremonious cousin barged inside, carrying a salvation, that is, a mug of coffee. I might have protested if I could bring myself to give a damn about anything right now. Besides, I knew full well that I had all the sex appeal of a raw carrot where Claude's tastes were concerned.

"That Viking corpse ditch you or something?" Claude inquired in a tone others would use while discussing the weather after assessing my state.

"I don't know," I choked out, feeling my face screw, and hurled my poor, anguished self in Claude's embrace.

He patted me awkwardly on the shoulder and held me a little away from him.

"Here, gulp this down, hon, you'll feel better."

Sticking a mug of coffee in my hands, Claude helped me out of the door and waited in comfortable idleness, checking on his flawless nails, while I swallowed the delicious drink. I sensed a hint of cinnamon and some liquor, something sweet and nutty, maybe brandy. Since when did I even have brandy in the house? But God, the coffee was rich. I mentally gave Claude brownie points for becoming ever more subtle when caring for others. He wasn't leaving, which meant he felt he was owed an explanation.

"Remy called yesterday, about Hunter," I started hesitantly, not sure how much I could share with Claude. I was pretty positive he was able to pick up that something was definitely different with the boy, but didn't want to say more than I absolutely had to.

"The boy with the essential spark?"

Okay, he knew, then.

"Yep, that's the one. One of my vampire… enemies is apparently after him. Eric heard the entire conversation. He figured out the deal with… with Hunter's _essential spark_ which didn't know before. He was a little... pissed I hadn't told him."

My Word of the Day calendar would call it a cute little euphemism. You bet.

Claude's air of a nonchalant, supportive relative dissipated immediately.

"Which vampire was that?" he asked, and something in his voice sounded so serious that it felt completely alien in the usually supercilious fairy. It scared me out of my pants.

"His name is Victor Madden. He is Felipe's regent in Louisiana. And he's taken an interest of sorts in me,» I answered warily.

"I've heard of him. He was quite famous in older days. Always close to royalty, you know. Not only vamp royalty, but humans, too. He's responsible for some of the trickiest intrigues at Europe's biggest courts. Deaths, poisonings. It's stuff from the movies, Sookie." Claude's voice took a whole new cadence when he was relating these facts. Sometimes he made it entirely too easy to forget that he'd actually been around for quite a while.

"Really," I replied, dazed. "Well, that sounds like Victor in his element."

"Do you know what his nickname was once?" Claude asked randomly.

"Tell me."

"Baby napper. I don't know much. Maybe you can look it up in that database that vamp with swoony eyes made, the one that lives across the cemetery."

Bill. Of course. But keep your friends close and your enemies closer and all that. Not that any part of me reacted with anything but utter loathing at the thought of having Victor anywhere closer than within a ten mile radius. But knowing more about him wouldn't hurt. I was still convinced that Victor needed to die, one way or the other.

Thoughts of sending vampires to their final deaths brought back Eric's accusations. I wondered if he realized how irrational and hypocritical he actually sounded. Eric, the ruthless Viking, who doled out death left, right and center on a regular basis without batting an eyelash. My chest constricted with pain again. I wanted to smack him across his righteous face. I wanted to scream bloody murder at him. I wanted to rip his clothes off and fuck him and make love to him until everything was right as rain between us.

Jamming those annoying tears back, I thanked Claude for his coffee and his idea and together we went downstairs.

Between Claude gushing about Dermot and how awesome it was that he's a vamp now, and making hideous jokes about considering being turned some time later, I cleaned and thought. It wasn't long before sunset, and I was trying to look forward to a visit to Bill. I was trying to look forward to at least _something_, scrambling for those little things. Gran always used to say that having nothing to look forward to is the saddest thing in the world. I hovered precariously on the edge of such a state.

I was scheduled for the dinner shift today, and when the time I would usually be leaving for work approached and went by, I half-expected Sam to give me a call and make sure I was coming. Apologize, maybe, though I couldn't be exactly sure for what. After all, he didn't fire me per se. He just let me walk out, that's all. When no calls from Sam or anyone else assaulted my cell, I gathered my resolve about me like a heavy-duty coat and started to bring myself to some semblance of a presentable state.

Ten minutes after sunset, I was ready to leave. I dawdled for the fear of being desperate and giving out the importance of my visit by coming exactly after the sun sank below the horizon, as if I couldn't wait.

Just as I was ready to start the slowest walk through the cemetery, my cell finally rang.

"Sookie, my friend, how are you this evening," Pam's cool, collected voice greeted me.

"Pam," I said, knowing that 'how are you' was always a rhetoric question with her.

"I trust you are home?" she said in the same detached manner.

"I am, but I was leaving just now."

"Stay put, I'll be at your place in half an hour." With that, she hung up.

I groaned.

Fortunately, Pam was true to her word, and exactly thirty minutes later I heard the rustling of tires on the gravel. I came over to the front porch to meet her. Pam was leaning on the door of her discreetly black, upper-classy BMW, looking for all the world like she'd just got off a charity meeting with the local respected housewives.

"Nice suit, Pam," I said in a way of greeting. Her pencil skirt and three-quarter-sleeve jacket combo in chalk green indeed looked stunning on her.

"I wish I could return the compliment, Sookie," Pam replied flatly after giving me a very critical once-over. Well, obviously my battered string shorts and t-shit would be sub-par to her.

"Won't you come on inside?" I gestured towards the house.

"Sookie, don't be daft. Your house reeks of fairy, so unless your delectable cousin wants to be dinner and entertainment for the evening and you're offering, I'd stay out and enjoy the night.

"Oh. Right. Forgot about that." Clearly, my brain was halfway up on the road to Bills, envisioning his database screen.

Pam got back into her car and unlocked the passenger door for me. I slid into the snuggly leather seat, sighed and stared at my hands.

"So, are you here to give me hell about Eric?" I asked, with a bit too much of annoyance, when the silence between us stretched to an uncomfortable extent.

"Actually, Eric sent me here to deliver a summons. You're needed for work in Shreveport this weekend."

"Did he and his cell phone have a falling out?" I asked maliciously.

"Not that I know of," Pam answered, completely ignoring the barb, "But I did take the opportunity to drive up myself and… how did you put it… _give you hell_."

"Awesome. Please feel free to proceed," I grumbled and peered at Pam with grim resolve.

"He sulks," Pam said with such aplomb as if she were delivering a final blow.

I rolled my eyes at her.

"No, Sookie, you don't get it. Eric does not sulk. Ever. And now he does, because of you."

The was she said it was not even accusatory, if anything it was matter-of-factly to such a degree that my anger flared up like a hay barn on fire.

"So, I'm supposed to do what? Rip hair out of my head and pour ashes on top?" I squeezed through gritted teeth. "You think I didn't try to make it right? Honestly, Pam?"

"Maybe you did. Except that you'd made it even more wrong," Pam deadpanned. "Look, I don't expect you to understand all the subtleties of a relationship between a vampire and his maker. We'll always side with them, no matter if they are wrong or right."

"Of course, I don't understand. I'm just too blonde for that," said I, to the blondest and palest blonde I've seen in my life.

"Don't be coy," Pam's tone meant trouble. I shut up.

There was a long pause, filled with me teetering with my fingers and Pam staring at me as if she had all the time in the world. Technically, she did.

"You know, I had urged him to kill you. Not even turn you or have someone else turn you, but drain you dry and stage an accident of some sorts. I even offered to take up the task, "she said, flashing a fangy smile at the last words.

Wow, that was quite straight-forward, even for Pam, who had all the tact of a hunting alligator.

I gawked at her, at a total loss of how to respond to such a confession.

"You would have killed me, just like that, no qualms?" I squeaked, baffled.

"You bet. And I'd enjoy it, too. Nothing personal, Sookie. It would have been pre-emptive self-defense on Eric's part."

I didn't think I'd ever get used to them speaking of killing and death so casually.

"Is this where I ask whether he finally had seen the light and let you?" I said, only half-joking.

"The first time I mentioned it to him was after he staked Long Shadow," Pam said, avoiding my answer. I guessed she had a little history or a point to make, or both, attached to that sweet piece of information, so I just let her speak.

"He refused, of course, saying you were too entertaining to waste as food."

These vamps really had a way with words when it came to us mere passing humans.

"Then, after the debacle with Hallow, I begged him. The things I offered to him if he could only give you up and quit being so vulnerable." Pam sounded almost wistful, and I felt goosebumps the size of a sparrow jig around my back despite the heat.

"The more I urged and begged and pleaded with him, the more resolute he became. It went to the point where he downright ordered me as my maker not to cause you any harm, directly or indirectly."

Pam was looking at me as if she were expecting some kind of a reaction and wasn't getting one.

"So, it means we're still kind of friends, right? You won't be doing any waitress killing and I'll get to ask how long your fangs are?" I chattered a little shakily still.

"I can definitely show you how long my fangs are, if you promise not to tell Eric," Pam drawled in an innuendo-loaded voice. When I recoiled, she rolled her eyes and smiled patronizingly.

"You are too easy to play," she stated with a cocked eyebrow.

"Maybe I am," I agreed, not wanting to dwell on the subject. "So, did your mindset change at all? Or are Eric's orders still the only layer of protection I have in your books?"

Pam gave me a small smile and resumed her morbid little tale.

"I guess it all changed after Rhodes, when you saved me and my master. And then, even more when your bond settled in. I can feel you a little, you know? Through the tie I have with Eric."

My eyes opened wide at that.

"It's not entirely unwelcome. I actually quite like it," Pam said simply. "But I think I really warmed up towards you thanks to Victor. When you stopped pussyfooting around the issue and stated clearly that the bastard needs to bite it, I think I even started respecting you. You have changed, Sookie, but I like the way you've changed."

I almost snickered at the thought of Pam using words like 'pussyfooting', and then the extent of what she was saying sank in. Pam actually 'got' me, unlike my vampire _husband_.

"Thank you, Pam," I croaked, touched and on the verge of crying.

"Oh, if you really mean it, don't leak, Sookie," Pam wrinkled her tiny pert nose in disgust. She hated gratuitous displays of emotions. "This was just a preamble, something for you to chew on. What I really came to say is this: if you want to make a clean break, this is probably your last and only chance."

"What do you mean?" I asked, feeling something big coming.

"Right now is the only time when you're both closed off to such a degree that will allow for a complete severance. In simpler words, if you want to dump Eric, now's the time when you safely can."

"You've come to ask me to do this? For Eric's sake?"

"This is where the tricky part is. I should. It would be the sensible thing to do," Pam said with such a un-Pam-like hesitance I felt my breath hitch a bit.

"But you won't?" I whispered, looking her directly in the eye.

"I can't," she said honestly.

"Ok."

"Yes. That. But I thought I'd let you know you have options. It probably would be better for everyone involved if you…" she trailed, obviously reluctant to finish that sentence, and it was damn endearing. Almost as if I suddenly saw Pam planting gardenias in a school garden or petting plump kittens.

"I see," I said lamely and stared at my hands again.

"So, where were you heading before I busted your evening?" Pam asked, driving the conversation into a different channel.

"I was going to see Bill. Something I need about computers," I answered evasively. I could see Pam was not buying it, but luckily, she didn't push.

"Want me to drop you off?" she offered casually.

"Nah, I'll walk, but thank you." I really needed some alone time after our little heart-to-heart. A quiet walk through the cemetery would do just fine.

"Fine, get," Pam said, mock-offended at my dismissal of her not-so-often-showed helpfulness. I smiled at my friend and got out of the car.

Before I made four steps away, I heard her calling out to me.

"Hey, Sookie." I turned around. "Appius was a right bastard. He deserved to die. If I'd been able to, I'd have offed that old goat myself on the night his evil spawn went on a killing rampage." A hint of an accent and wording belied the seeming off-handedness of Pam's delivery. She was dead serious and sincere.

"I know, Pam." I said, hoping she got it that I was acknowledging something very big here. I think she did. With a curt nod that was too curt not to tell me that Pam was most probably touched, she started her car and drove off.

I hopped over the road to Bill's house with my spirits lifted. An arresting sense of a kindred mind I found in Pam was wonderful. Halfway through the cemetery I realized that I never gave my answer to these 'summons'. Well, not like anything but 'yes' would be taken for an answer. But I thought my acknowledgement would be appreciated. I whipped my phone, typed _I will come at weekend_ and hit Eric's number.

When Bill's front porch light started to flicker through the trees, my phone buzzed.

_So you will._

Asshole. But strangely, I didn't feel spurned.

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: My dear readers! I know I promised to update at the end of last week, but RL has been less than stellar of late. It seems, every single patch of wood and peat bog is on fire around. The city I live in is all smoked up, you can't open the window and go outside without a mask. And on Friday I we were evacuated from my mom's summer house in the country. Not the way I wanted my first time flying a helicopter to go :) My little daughter is feeling sick because of all the smoke, and we're all kinda stressed. Not even mentioning the horrible heat. So, forgive me, please, I hope it gets better soon (and my posting speed, too). Love you all, thank you for lovely reviews and encouragement. **Kristen**, my beta is a blast!

~oOo~

"Hello, Sookie!" Judith greeted me rather gleefully from Bill's front porch way before I was even close to entering the house.

"Judith! Nice to see you. I hope you're enjoying your stay in Bon Temps," I blathered on cheerfully, plastering my crazy grin over my face with so much force it left me wondering whether I looked like my ponytail was a little too tight to be comfortable.

"Oh, it's a lovely little town. And Bill is a wonderful host," Judith gushed.

You bet. Bill could be one hell of a charming southern gentleman when he wanted to be.

Hopping off the porch gracefully, Judith hurried to meet me. She took both of my hands in hers and looked at me like I was a sprinkling of manna in the Arabian Desert.

"I never thanked you properly for bringing me over here," she whispered very, very quietly, and I ffrealized whatever she wanted to tell me was not intended for Bill's acute hearing. I didn't have anything against Judith, in fact, she was quite likeable. But, standing there with her cool, dry hands clasping mine, I felt uneasy.

"It's nothing, Judith. Bill is… Bill is my friend, and I only wish to see him well and happy," I answered with as much sincerity as I could muster.

"Really?"

No. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, was she really asking me that?

I smiled lamely, playing a little dumb. I really hoped it was a rhetorical question.

"You know it's just that I would really, really like to see him well and happy too," Judith breathed out in tiniest of whispers. Tiny though it was, boy was it also loaded. For a little while I stood there, grinning madly, while the little gears turned in my head, and tried to figure out what the implication was.

And then it hit me.

"Is this your way of asking me to stay away from Bill?" I asked, in the same sweet voice and with the same 'let-me-take-your-order' expression on my face.

"Sookie, I have absolutely nothing, nothing against you." Surprisingly, she sounded sincere and even a tad wistful. I immediately relaxed. "I care for him. He needs to—"

"Move on," we said in perfect unison, and her eyes shone with understanding.

Suddenly, her pretty chestnut head whipped around back to the house.

"Let's go," she said, and together we went.

When Bill entered the parlor, he looked even better than the last time I had seen him at Merlotte's. His dark hair, brushed with stylish negligence, a set of dark khakis, a button-down shirt and a guarded half-smile made him look like the Bill of two years ago.

"Sookie, it's good to see you," he said with a slight lift of his eyebrows, which meant he was surprised but too polite to ask me what I wanted right away.

"Bill, Judith. I'm sorry to disrupt your evening. I will only need fifteen minutes or so of your time. Bill, if I could use your database to look something up, I'd be much obliged," I shot out like a rusty gun and cringed inwardly. Since when was I so jumpy and uncomfortable around Bill? _Since he's not visibly pining for you_, a nasty little voice said inside my mind, and I smacked it upside the imaginary head. I was just shaken and weak with all the recent events. I was no dog in the manger.

"Of course, Sookie," Bill's cool, lilting drawl interrupted my little self-pep-talk. "If you'll follow me to my study."

The smile he gave Judith when leaving the room did not sail by me.

"What can I do for you?" Bill asked as his computer buzzed to life.

"I want to look up Victor Madden. I need to know about him. It's one of those 'warned equals armed' cases," I said, hoping Bill would not press.

"Are you looking for anything… specific?" Bill was launching his database and made a point of not looking me in the eye. Thank you, Bill.

"Not really. I'll take all you got."

"All right. Here's what I have for Victor." Bill got up from the chair in front of the computer screen and motioned for me to sit.

I wasn't very computer-savvy, so I felt doubly uncomfortable as I scrolled through Victor's page. Born… Maker… known progeny, pictures of said progeny… owed fealty to this, that and those… participated in Massacre of New Dehli in 1823, takeover London's East End in 1940, was known under the pseudonym of Marquis du Plessis at Louis 14th court, blah, blah. Dry, faceless facts. I was completely underwhelmed.

Bill caught on my feelings of disappointment pretty quickly.

"Not what you expected?" He asked carefully.

"Not really. This is so… brushed up. Knowing Victor…it's hard to believe."

Bill peered at me, as if he were making a decision, and then clicked on something in his program and a password window appeared. He typed in something in vampire speed, and we were taken to another file on Victor. This one was much, much longer.

"We are now in protected mode. This information is highly classified even for vampires. I don't sell it with my regular database. Only few know it exists and fewer even have access to it." He said in the same, measured tone. Nothing in his demeanor betrayed how he felt about sharing something so dangerous with me. I, however, was totally humbled. When Bill and I were close, he shared as little of vampire world with me as it was vampirely possible.

"Woah, Bill. Are you sure about that?" I asked, trying my damnedest not to look at the screen, lest Bill changed his mind, and I needed to pretend like I hadn't seen anything. In this case, it would be safer if I really didn't.

"Your safety is crucial. If this is the information that will help you to survive whatever is going on with Victor, you need to have it.

Well, I'll be damned, who are you and what have you done with Bill?

"Thank you. I'll only take a minute, if you don't mind," I said meekly.

"Take all the time you need, sweetheart."

So, I did.

Victor was indeed, quite the character.

After wadding through lists upon lists of slaughters, murders, intricate intrigues which resulted in major power shifts, plots, conspiracies and a whole lot of other things Victor had been involved throughout his lifetime, I soon quit being impressed with Mr. Victor Madden. Born an English aristocrat during the time when being close to royalty meant choosing loyalties and ultimately sides in wars, he was raised and honed to be a consummate manipulator. I felt like I was a dry twig trying to withstand a brush fire.

Then my eyes slipped over what I was looking for – 'baby napper'. His nickname during his time with the French court. The story behind it was macabre. Apparently, Victor bought (as in purchased) royal bastards off their unfortunate mothers – the favorites of the amorous Louis—and sold them to high-standing vampires throughout Europe as rare delicacies. Most of them were freshly out of their mothers' wombs. I shuddered, reading about it, and felt bile rise in my throat.

Judith chose this moment to call out to Bill for something or other. Looking at me intently, my ex boyfriend said, "I'll be right back, Sookie," and slipped out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

I kept reading. The most dreadful surprise was still ahead. Victor's list of progeny was now extended by two. There were no pictures and both the additions were listed as currently dead, but when I saw the values of 'turned at the age of' columns, I gasped. Victor had turned children. At least twice. Both were under eight years old. I didn't even want to think what their story and final death entailed. I wondered if Eric knew.

Eric. The thought of him pierced my mind, and before it knew what it was doing, my hands that were, obviously, disconnected from my brain at the moment, were typing the words 'Eric Northman' in the query box right next to the one that stated 'protected mode'. Well, hell. If Eric got pissed at me for keeping one lousy little secret from him, I had all the right in the world to stay mad for years to come. Eric's closet was chock full of skeletons.

I hurriedly scrolled down Eric's trivia, noticing with amusement that he was quite diverse in his occupations. Once he was even heading a sect during the twenties in Nice, which many Bohemian folks favored. The sect was summoning various devils and practicing blood rituals. I snickered and almost flipped through the progeny tab. I couldn't think of what I could find there, apart from, maybe, a few tacky facts about Pam that I could use to tease her to hell later.

But then I noticed two more discreet entries. Eric had two more vampire children. The first one, a female, he had made in Greece, roughly seventy years after his own turning. There was no name, no picture, nothing on her, apart from the statement that she was finally dead and the eerie notion that for some reason, that information was pertinent for being available only in protected mode. I hated to even think of that possible reason.

However, it was the second entry that stopped me dead in my tracks. Again, no picture, no name, nothing apart from a brief notice that she (again, a female) was turned in Ireland in early fifteen hundreds. And she was a fairy, at least for the most part. Her father was a full-blooded water fairy and her mother was a half-blood. My hand covered my mouth in utter shock. Of course, I didn't expect Eric's thousand years worth of living to be boring and uneventful. But it was the first time I fully realized the extent of my ignorance when it came to his past. I knew a little of his human life, first-hand, and somehow, our connection was always too preoccupying, to say nothing of all the situations my dealings with vampires put me in. In short, his life 'before' I came along was always a little pot somewhere on the backburner of my mind that I never expected to touch.

And now it came around and bit me in the ass.

Somewhere, along his life course, Eric had managed to turn a fairy. Someone who was more of a fairy than my uncle Dermot. If I was going by Eric's own words, it was basically beyond any vampire to achieve that feat. And yet, Eric had this little trophy stashed away in his sleeve.

A dreadful, mind-boggling suspicion started creeping on me with the inevitability of night and I brushed it away, having to physically wave a hand in front of my face. Surely, Eric couldn't… No, no. I couldn't even think of allowing myself to entertain this idea. I skimmed the page for more information, trying to avert my thoughts from the path they wanted to take.

This mysterious fairy-vampire gal had mysteriously fallen out of history and vampire records as of the early eighteen hundreds, according to Bill's data. I started feeling slightly queasy with unease. Fortunately, Bill chose this moment to come back, and I was lucky that he had made himself heard before appearing suddenly behind my back like he most certainly could.

I quickly hit the back button, and it had taken be to Victor's page and all his slimy deeds. I must have looked really stricken, because Bill's Roman eyebrows knit together in concern when he saw the expression on my face.

"I assume you have found what you were looking for," he said, with tenderness and peculiar sadness. I wondered how much Bill himself knew.

"Ye—yes," my mouth said, as if it had a life of its own.

"Some consider Victor an abomination even to our kind," Bill said solemnly, and I knew for sure that those some included him. Oh, if he only knew how far Victor was from my thoughts right now. But thinking of him was safe, if that word could even be used in this situation. So, I tried to ponder all I learned about Victor instead of fretting over Eric and his fairy progeny.

"Thank you. Thank you for doing this for me. I think I'll be on my way now." Words stumbled out of me like uncouth little animals. I got up and brushed Bill's cheek with my lips and hurried outside. Suddenly, his old house felt stuffy and crammed: with vampires, with memories, with bad associations.

A gentle yet heavy hand stopped me.

"Won't you stay a little longer? I will brew some coffee. I have your favorite blend. And Judith would love to—"

I jumped around. For someone almost two hundred years old, Bill could be so clueless.

"What Judith would love it is to be alone with you, Bill, and fuck your brains out."

Shock is a good attack and aversion tactic. I learned that a long time ago. If you want to throw someone off you back, shock them. And Bill was surely flabbergasted to hear me cuss and speak in such a straight-forward way. I took the leeway his three seconds of catching up with the world gave me, and snuck out, waving a hasty goodbye to Judith.

I ran to my house as fast as my feet would carry me, as if it would be any help from the stifling uncertainty I was feeling. As I could see my house's old white porch gleaming in the dark, I felt something else creep into the array of emotions. A longing of sorts, and a bit of anxiety.

Sure enough, the source of it was sitting on my Gran's porch swing, dangling an empty bottle of True Blood in his long fingers. Fingers I had fantasies about on better days. His flashy car was nowhere to be seen. That meant he'd flown. Something urgent, then.

I felt a rush of the same longing, this time my own, at the sight of him in jeans and a tight black V-neck t-shirt with an elaborate print. He looked… so well-placed, for lack of better word. Night truly did become him.

"Eric," I sighed with a bit more feeling than I'd have liked to show. "Is anything wrong?"

"Do I need something wrong to happen to come see you?" he answered simply, without reproach.

"No, I just thought… that after yesterday…" I couldn't finish the sentence, because I really did not want to think how his feelings about me could change after yesterday.

He looked at me with unsettling scrutiny for some time.

"Actually, something did happen. I called the shifter to clear out your schedule for the weekend and he told me something I had always thought I would like to hear, but instead it left me concerned, and not in a good way."

"Oh, so he told you that I, ah… left, I guess." I said, and, despite his detached tone and outward coldness, flushed with warmth at the thought that he'd fly up here because of this.

"He wasn't even that wordy, so I thought I'd ask you myself," Eric said, all casual politeness and icy good will.

"I guess I just walked out, and he didn't have reason enough to stop me," I answered, hoping I didn't sound as bitter as I felt about the whole job situation.

"You didn't tell me about it," he stated, but in a way that obliged to an explanation. Still no accusation in his voice.

"I thought you had a lot on your mind to bother you with my job problems," I mumbled.

"You thought I would neglect something like this?" Still calm, collected, casual. Damn vampires.

"I didn't say that," I bristled.

"What happened? I got a guilty vibe from the shifter. What did he do?" Apparently, Eric let go of the 'why didn't you tell me' branch and grabbed onto the 'give me a reason to lash at Sam' one.

"He didn't do a damn thing. I just caught something in his brain and… acted hastily. It wasn't Sam's fault. He can't stop himself from thinking things, you know," I said, getting on defensive. This cold shoulder thing was really getting old. I averted my eyes and stared out into the woods.

"What was it that made you leave, Sookie?" his voice suddenly sounded right into my ear, a gentle rustle, barely discernable from the whispering of the tree leaves outside, and I started, scared by his sudden appearance right at my shoulder.

"Please, don't do this, Eric, you know I hate it," I said, still jumpy and more than a bit annoyed. "And why are you doing all this seductive whispering in my ear anyway?"

I felt tears. I was sick of crying, but my eyes were in complete disagreement.

"Are you telling me you're surprised that I'd be concerned about you losing your job? You've been talking my ear off about how precious it is to you," Eric murmured, still standing so close to me, I couldn't help but feel the tiny hairs at the back of my neck stand on end.

This was torture, and a devious one at that. Not knowing whether he meant to be sweet and calming or whether he was just being a vampire on the hunt for information. Did he want to know about my job? Did he, maybe, pick up that I knew something important about him and didn't like it? The bond sill felt hollow and numb, so how was I to know what Eric felt through it?

"Pam told me," I started breathily, wanting to finally clear the air between us once and for all and not knowing how do it so that the outcome would not be a disaster.

"What did she tell you?" Eric asked in whisper, though somehow I could still sense a hint of anxiety.

"She told me that now is the safest time to… break things." My voice trembled treacherously.

"Is that what you want? To break things?"

I felt anger rushing through my blood, setting it on fire. It was definitely my own.

"Don't you dare to pull a Sam on me, Eric Northman," I hissed, sticking my index finger into his controlled, perfect, beloved face. "Don't you even try to sit around on your pretty ass and leave me to do all the decision-making and take full responsibility for what has happened to us."

Very slowly, his large white hand wrapped around my wrist and pulled my finger away from his face. I knew it would get a reaction, anger maybe. Eric didn't like to be spoken to in such a manner, I knew it from experience. Yet, he remained unperturbed. Leaning closer to me, he said barely above a breath, "Explain."

"Sam had been thinking I was bad for business. You know, with all those minions of Felipe's coming around to look at me, scaring away the paying _human _customers. His girlfriend threw some logs in that fire, too. Sam didn't say a damn word to me until one day I heard it in his head," I said with a defensive shrug. "He didn't want to be the one to deliver the blow. But he let me go without so much as a phone call later. And if I hadn't left things would have just gotten worse. Now, look at you! How am I supposed to answer to your question? How do I even know you're not prompting me to do something you want done, but don't want to be the one doing it?"

"And you are comparing me with the shifter?" Eric asked, but there was no usual disdain in his voice as he spoke about Sam. He was just asking me to confirm or deny a fact.

"Maybe I am," I answered and stuck my chin out with a challenge. "You've left me hanging here, Eric, can't you see that?"

"Answer my question, Sookie." Ok, patience definitely running thin.

"No, I don't to break up. Though I probably should!" I spat out angrily and felt a fresh flood of tears threatening to overtake.

"Thank you," He said simply. It had its effect. I felt stunned enough for my eyes to dry instantly.

"What for?" I asked, in a daze.

"For answering."

"So, I answered it, now what?" I stared at him like he was a Virgin Mary apparition.

"I want to renew our bond."

_What_?

"What?" I felt like a had just been slapped. Just like that? Was he serious? "You've gotta be bullshitting me! After you've been throwing your holier-than-thou attitude at me about Appius?"

"I've thought about it, and the desire to have you in my life prevailed." He answered, and I sensed a wave of hurt. He was standing really close, and at such a short distance some things slowly seeped in through the bond.

"Don't speak of me like I'm just one of your assets," I gritted out, lacing my voice with as much hate I had for the very concept of being an asset to the Sherriff of Area Five or the King of Nevada or the Pope of Rome as possible.

Suddenly, I noticed that Eric looked lost. That big, tough, ruthless Viking, who could snap almost anyone in this world with a tiniest flick of his pinky—looked lost. The realization struck me with a force of a lightning bolt in a Texan storm. He didn't know how to go about this any more than I did. It had probably been one hell of a long time since he'd had anything even remotely close to an emotional relationship. And a twenty-first century woman is not your meek medieval gal born to be a mother and a wife and trained to obey men.

Speaking of relationships, there was something else in Eric's general offness. He basically smacked of reserved anticipation, so I decided to dive for the jugular here.

"You tried to make me feel like I'd done something horrible, when all I've ever done was try to protect you from someone who hurt you!" It came out as a rather pathetic whimper and I turned around.

Large hands snaked around my waist and hugged me close to the familiar magnificent frame I fit so well into. Immediately, I felt a strong urge to just let go and forget everything and seek solace and relief in my lover's arms, even if it were for a couple of hours, even if when I came down from a sexual high, all the things, all the secrets that currently stood between us would press on me with a renewed force.

"I acted on emotion, Sookie. I seem to do that a lot when you are concerned," Eric breathed into my ear as one of his hands moved the hair over to one side and ran a tender trail along my hairline.

"You got so pissed at me for not telling you about Hunter. And yet you kept something huge from me. Something that could have helped with finding out what happened with Dermot," I whispered, not moving.

He tensed immediately. The gentle embrace turned into a grip and the caressing hand dropped to clutch my arm.

Oh shit. I frantically thought if I had just made my situation a hundred times worse.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thank you ever so much for the lovely responses, my dear readers. They feed the muse! So keep them coming :) And a special load of gratitude goes to **Kristen**, my beta extraordinaire, for her support, nudging, hand-holding and virtual back-rubbing. Here's the next chapter, where there's no one but our favourite couple. Enjoy! And please, tell me what you think.

~oOo~

"Hypnotizing the woods outside won't get us anywhere, Eric," I said to the vampire's straight, lean back.

He was standing at the window, arms folded and head hung. Looking unintentionally gorgeous, of course. He had yet to say something. A small eternity passed, and I was getting agitated.

I gave him another minute and he still hadn't stirred from his self-imposed wood-watching. The air between us crackled with tense, thick unease. I had a fleeting impulse to wave my hands to chase it off,, as if I were swimming underwater and something elusive and nasty, like one of those cuttlefish, spattered ink right before my eyes.

"I wouldn't have pegged Bill for someone with a vindictive streak so wide," he finally said, his voice devoid of all emotions. This hollowness in him scared me more than his spitting anger ever would.

"Bill has nothing to do with this," I said, infuriated that he'd try to shift the weight of blame in order to escape the outright confrontation.

"Doesn't he?" Eric asked pointlessly, and turned around. His face was dead. _Really_ dead. For someone who had been dead for so long, Eric had always been one of the liveliest, vivacious creatures I'd seen. And I've seen a lot of creatures. If any vampire could pull off being a human with ease, that vampire was Eric. And here he was, standing with a face so dead, so far from anything even remotely humanlike that my entire house felt like an ancient, long-sealed vault.

I told him that I went to Bill to look for stuff up on Victor. I explained that I needed to protect Hunter and was ready to go far. I blabbed about my fears of Victor turning Hunter while he's still so young, and I mused out loud about what was it about turning a child that Victor would stoop so low. I finally checked myself when I realized that Eric had been standing still the whole time I was walking around and wringing my hands. It was like he'd succumbed to one of those vampire slumbering moments.

I started telling him, _man up and just goddamn talk to me_, but remembered that vampires often did wicked things just for the sport of it, and with Eric's being unpredictable in our best moments, who knew what he was capable of in this state. Then, I just about started to tell him, how very, very afraid of him I was at the moment, but again, stopped right about when the words were ready to tumble out of my often-too-big mouth. Eric hated it that he scared me sometimes. He thought it stood in the way of me trusting him, accepting him into my life completely. I didn't want to stab him where it hurt.

Biting the inside of my lower lip in nervous tumult, I stared. And stared. And stared some more.

"So, Pam has two sisters?" someone croaked, breaking the unbearable silence. It took me a second to catch up with the fact that it was me.

"Had. Pam had two… sisters, as you put it," Eric whispered back with all the conviction of a skilled liar.

"Had? Isn't one of them just missing?" I asked shrilly.

"So, you did read Bill's file. He should have told you that not all of his information is factual."

"Are you telling that it's a fact that both of them are dead?" I questioned further, knowing that as a maker, Eric would know this.

"No," he said after a very long pause, during which he was obviously considering whether to lie to me or not. He knew he could pull it off. And I would believe him, too. "But not because both my other children are not dead," he added, and I didn't like the somber under tone in his voice.

"Then why?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"My second child… was different. I can't feel her. Never could. She may as well be dead," Eric answered with a caution of a cat stepping into a water puddle.

"Is this because she was a fairy?"

"Perhaps. I'm not sure at this point," he replied, looking slightly more collected.

"Why did you keep something so important from me? How did you even manage to turn a fairy?" I fired off, back on track with my anger, kick-started by his quick recovery.

"It's a long conversation, and I'd rather have it with you when you're not bursting at the seams with fury, Sookie," Eric answered cautiously, and something in his tone made my ears prick. And then it clicked.

"Is this why you wanted to renew the bond?" I asked, my breath lagging behind me. I practically suffocated in indignation. Eric flinched away: my eyes were probably shooting stakes. But I was definitely past caring about how I made him feel right now. "So, how were you planning to go about it, huh? Pump me full of your blood, screw me into being pliable and then say 'Oh, by the way Sookie, I once turned a fairy, wasn't that fun!' Some pillow talk that would have been!" I raged.

"My desire to renew our bond is independent from the necessity of having this talk," Eric answered briskly. He gave me a long, calculating look and continued, "but I won't lie to you, Sookie, having it after we have renewed our bond would have been… preferable and… beneficial." He said beneficial in a voice spoilt, errant children ask their indulgent parents for extra money after they have spent their monthly allowance on trifles in one day.

His honesty was brutal, but disarming, really. It had always been this way with Eric. The way he laid out even the most clandestine intentions which concerned my person out in the open and was not ashamed about it was uniquely appealing and very Eric.

"You kept something so big from me. It could have helped, this knowledge, you know? The timing when this all comes out is just too fishy for me not to think things. How do I even know you have nothing to do with Dermot's turning?" The minute the accusation flew out of my mouth I felt sorry I even allowed myself to entertain such a thought.

Eric moved with vampire speed and a split second later, I was pressed against the wall with a painful thud. His hands were fisted and most probably leaving indents on the wall on both sided of my head, and if the fire in his eyes were any hotter, my face would have turned to ashes then and there.

"I may have done many things, but I have never lied to you," he whispered with such deadly coldness, one could never mistake his voice for something even remotely human. All the words that were crowding to jump off my tongue, were effectively jammed by a wave of fear. Eric must have sensed it, because his face relaxed minutely, and the cold ice in his voice was melting with sadness. Like I said before, he hated it when he scared me.

"You told me that turning a fairy is a feat no vampire could achieve and yet you forgot to mention that you yourself did it. And at a young age, at that. How is that not a lie, Eric?" I asked softly, trying to quell the conflicting desires to either pound my fists at him or jump his bones.

"I simply haven't told you all of it." He said, as if it was the rightest thing in the world to do on a regular basis.

"You seem to do that a lot." I answered laying it thick with reproach.

"I am vampire. That is our _modus operandi_."

I had no idea what that meant, but I was dead sure that the no small amount of pride that was infusing his voice had nothing to do with the ability to stick a quaint piece of Latin into a conversation. The gall of that vampire.

"That you are. Then I guess my not telling you _all of it_ about Hunter doesn't count as a lie, either? Or is telling half-truths a strictly vampire prerogative? " I asked, and batted my eyelashes a few times for a good measure. There, let no one think Sookie Stackhouse couldn't use a bit of her own fancy language.

Eric narrowed his eyes at me.

"Touché," he said with an unreadable expression and released me from the little prison made of the wall, his limbs and his body. A prison I didn't care to leave too soon in fact.

He turned away, swift as a gust of wind and took his former position at the window. I, however, was so not finished.

"Uh-uh, Eric Northman, you don't get to say 'touché' and strike another brooding pose at the window!" I said loud enough to be counted as yelling. "If you say it wasn't a lie in your book for me not to tell you about Hunter's little quirk, then why the hell did you get so pissed at me? Or are double standards another one of these vampire modus whatever fuckery?"

He turned around immediately and strode to me slowly, while I was standing, hands balled, chest heaving, eyes swimming with anger, and wrapped his big, big tender hands about the half-globes of my shoulders. His lips opened slightly and then stretched into a thin line and there was evident torture in his features, as if he were trying to say something very painful or self-disparaging. I realized that the occasion was so rare he could probably count similar ones on the fingers of one hand throughout his thousand years of life, and my breath hitched with anticipation.

"I want you to tell me, Sookie, that you completely and utterly believe me when I say that all the recent events, all the things that you and I have found out about each other have nothing to do with one another. It is not me plotting, it is just bad, ridiculously unfortunate timing and coincidence. I have nothing to do with turning Dermot, and though I admit that I thought telling you about my other children would have been easier once our bond is renewed, I want to renew our blood tie for entirely different reasons." Eric's eyes stared into me, like two tiny pieces of sky, searching for answers into my very soul.

"I believe you," I whispered hesitantly, "But it doesn't mean I follow and accept your behavior and reactions, Eric. It also doesn't mean that you didn't hurt me, and it doesn't take away that hurt either."

"Yes, that is another thing," Eric said, his voice resigned. He took a deep, unnecessary breath. I was sure he was putting a veritable show for my sake and felt a tiny explosion of gratitude.

I looked at him expectantly. Was he about to apologize?

After what seemed to be a little eternity of mental preparation, Eric spoke.

"I screwed up," He said, his face barely holding from contorting into a mask of distaste. Eric 'Perfection Personified' Northman _never_, ever screwed up. But he sounded so serious and he so certainly meant it.

Whoa, that was most certainly Big with a capital B.

"What?" I asked in a startled, chocked whisper, still not believing such words actually found a way out from his mouth. A flicker of irritation passed through his face. He was probably thinking I was acting dumb to have the pleasure of hearing him say those words again.

"Alright, Pam's wording was that I fucked up," he said, looking deliciously riled up.

The unreality of the situation finally caught up with me, and I gave into a fit of laughter.

After the peals of silly giggles subsided enough for me to judge the world clearly, I saw that Eric was hurt a good bit.

"Well, I'm happy to be a source of such a tremendous entertainment for you," he said venomously and turned for the door.

The very thought that he was _leaving_ sobered me up immediately. All laughter forgotten, I ran after him and grabbed his hand. Seeing his retreating back just reminded me how important he was to me.

"No, don't leave, please," I said, turning him to look at me. "Eric," I whispered, sliding my hand up his arm, enjoying the supple feel of his ivory-smooth, cool skin. "It's just that your… admission caught me off guard. I wasn't making fun of you. But you so rarely, if ever, say something so—"

"Human?" he interrupted me, but did nothing to stop the crawl of my hand to his shoulder and neck.

"Yes, human."

I looked at him from under my lashes. The perfect bow of his upper lip trembled and curved into a tiny smile.

"I actually asked Pam what Dear Abby thought about fixing things between… lovers," he whispered huskily, taking my hand that was now browsing the strong curve of his shoulder, and kissing the blue vein that was beating on the inside of my wrist.

"Did Pam give you a nice grilling?" I chuckled, trying to sound nonchalant and failing miserably, because the feeling of butterfly wings beating against my insides was intensifying exponentially with every peck of his lips to my wrist. And when I felt the slightest scrape of a fang, I barely managed to remain standing because my knees wobbled so much. My anger was quickly fleeing.

"No, she actually didn't. But she did tell me, 'Go tell her you've fucked up, Eric, for Christ's sake,' he said in such a perfect imitation of his beloved child, topping it with an absolutely Pam-like eye-roll, that I could help but let another bubbly giggle escape. This time, however, Eric was obviously aiming at making me laugh.

"Pam told me I was pussyfooting," I said between chuckles as Eric's other hand found the dip of my waist.

Eric's golden-brown eyebrows shot up in amusement, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

"That sounds much kinkier than I've known you to be, Miss Stackhouse," Eric purred, and yet another particle of anger shriveled up and died inside me at the sound of his positively bedroom voice. Soon enough I would not be remembering why I was mad at my vampire to begin with.

"It means I'm walking about the issue being indecisive," I said with a superiority his spotty knowledge of modern lingo always gave me.

"Pam certainly has a way with words," he answered with a broad smile.

"Just so you know, I'm still mad at you," I whispered, feeling anything but.

"I know. And I intend to apologize… profusely," he made it sound as full of obscene promise as a gallon of Ben and Jerry's Rocky Road waiting to be eaten all by yourself. I felt my heartbeat accelerate and knew that Eric would pick up on the slightest signs of my excitement before even I was able to register them.

He took in a whiff of air noisily and looked at me like he had just won a million dollar bet.

"I'm happy to know I'm still capable of making you aroused with just words," he murmured into the skin of my cheek.

Arrogant bastard. I smiled despite the sentiment. He was dead on, after all.

"We are going to talk about your… progeny, right? I have too many… things to tell. Questions to ask," I mumbled, barely able to string words into sentences because his cool, moist tongue was tracing patterns of sheer distraction on the side of my neck.

"Rest assured, we will. But I want to make amends first."

The prospect was heady. The depth of how much I actually missed Eric, how big a void in my life would have been, were he to leave it somehow, only became clearer as his fingers gathered around my face and pulled me in for a kiss.

One kiss was all it took for the rest of the world to remove itself from my head and narrow down to my living room, a roaring fire and a Viking whose lips were currently roaming over my face and neck. Eric truly was the ultimate kisser. I couldn't tell how the dimensions shifted, but suddenly the ceiling that used to be above me was right in front of me. I took it to mean that somehow Eric guided us both down to the floor, and I hadn't even noticed. Kind of like one of those drunks who walk home and suddenly 'the roads rises up to meet them and hits them square in the face', as Jason would describe the experience. I giggled at the untimely ridiculousness of the thought.

"Is something funny?" Eric asked, raising his face from where it was currently getting reacquainted with the tops of my very eager and very waiting breasts which, if they could talk, would scream in frustration of being abandoned right about now.

"No, no," I panted, taken away for a second with the sight of his beautiful face, hovering over mine in a halo of golden hair. Nothing was funny at that moment. "I just… I'm just so happy now, I think. And it's funny how this morning everything was just so horrible and now everything is just… so right. I'm so easy," I babbled, trying desperately not to let my eyes roll to the top of my head and moan, because while I was delivering my little speech, Eric's hands… well, they went exploring.

"Lover," Eric said, punctuating the endearment with a sensual nip to my lower lip. "This sentence has a flaw of having entirely too many justs."

Only Eric 'Sex on Stick' Northman could make such out-of-place, random statement sound like a promise of the most incredible sex to come.

Something very happy inside me curled and purred like a well-fed and well-petted kitten at the long-awaited word finally being said. I ran my hands up his back, enjoying the play of muscle and sinew under my fingers.

"And you have flaw of wearing entirely too much clothes," I said to my vampire and tugged at his shirt suggestively.

A challenging raise of an eyebrow was all the warning I got before Eric divested both of us with vampire speed. Faintly registering that my bra was currently decorating the ceiling fan, I reveled in the exquisite feeling of skin on skin. White on tanned. Cool on heated. I knew soon enough Eric's skin would soak up some of my heat as we made love. I also knew he loved the feeling of this proxy warmth. He'd told me once that this alone could outweigh his desire to make me vampire and keep me forever.

When he was poised to enter me, Eric took my chin in his hands, bringing my eyes to meet his in a direct headlock.

"I was a fool to let anything come in between you and me," he said raggedly and drove into me with a welcome force. "This is how we should be, Sookie." Thrust in. "Just like this." Pull out almost all the way. "We should be one, my lover." Thrust back. "As long as we have, we should be one." Twist of hips.

When he hooked his elbow under my knees to change the angle and leaned close to whisper shameless, explicit, decadent things into my ear, telling me what he was planning to do to me and have me to do him, I came undone, shattering into a thousand little pieces of bliss and ecstasy.

For a few sparkling hours, the world was made whole and right again.

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: For some reason, I had trouble with this chapter. Hope you like it guys. If you feel like it, please let me know what you think. Your support is very encouraging. Thank you to everyone who took time to leave me a note or a PM, and a giant-ass Skars-shaped thank you goes to **Kristen**, my lovely beta and dear friend. I love you, dude!

~000~

I was sprawled on my stomach, languishing in the feel of cool fingers absently drawing circles on my lower back. The sky outside started to pale, signifying the impending sunrise, and the forest was no more a mass of impenetrable black. I could see the darker trunks of separate trees and the clear outline of the branches.

We were both comfortably silent, and I was doing my best to stay as still as possible in order not to break the magic of the moment, as if doing so would stop the run of time and keep my vampire here with me.

We were yet to have that talk. After our initial hunger for each other was satisfied, Eric made a feeble, but honest, attempt to tell me. But seeing him lounging in my bed, gloriously naked and fully aware of the fact, I just could not resist the temptation. And then, when my sated awareness started to encompass something other than the man beside (on top, below or in positions there are no prepositions for) me, it was almost dawn.

Eric's fingers crawled up to my still spotless neck.

"I'll have to impose on your hospitality for the day," he said softly, and though usually I didn't feel comfortable having a vampire sleeping underneath the floorboards in my old bedroom, I almost purred at the thought that for the whole day Eric would be nearby.

"You must be hungry," I started, asking a question without the actual question.

Eric got me. He always did.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but I can manage," he said with an indulgent grin. It was only a matter of seconds before his face turned completely serious. "I don't want to feed from you or have you drink my blood before we talk." How sweet. "So, I expect you to clear out your schedule tonight. And no fairies in the house, please." Dang. Sherriff Northman had to go and spoil it all.

"You are so disgustingly domineering!" I rolled my eyes in anger that was not even half-hearted.

"Maybe, yes," he chuckled, as his wandering palm flattened over the tops of my buttocks. "And while I still have some precious time, guess what I'm going to domineer you into," he murmured into my ear seductively.

And then he left me not one second to do the guessing.

~ooo~

When I next woke up next time, I was, of course, alone in my bed, and the sun, that seemed more joyful and gave a good deal more light today, was shining invitingly through the window.

Feeling like a fourteen-year-old after her first date with _that_ boy, I giggled, took a quick shower, put on my bikini, grabbed a pop-tart in the kitchen and ran outside. I had a moment's sadness at the thought that I could have had a lunch dinner shift today, but I let it sail right on past without dwelling on it. If Sam thought me a threat, well then, let him.

I threw a towel over the ancient deck-chair and sprawled over it, feeling complete relaxation only a night of fantastic sex, combined with a huge weight lifted from my shoulders, could give.

However, I didn't have long to enjoy it. The said weight, or at least, some of it, started to settle back in. I realized that I was both looking forward to and dreading the coming conversation with Eric. I was completely unprepared for whatever new facts about him that were about to surface. There were definitely sides to Eric I hadn't seen, and I was aware how many there truly were, what with his thousand years of adopting to lifestyles, morals and societies. And yet, the sides I had made acquaintance with, I thought I knew like the back of my hand.

And here were these two… women. Girls. Vampires. I didn't even know what they were to him. I knew Pam. Pam was safe. I knew they had a sexual relationship, and it was, probably, longer than my mortal life would ever be, yet, I somehow felt completely comfortable with that fact. Soon after my thoughts turned into that direction, I understood what was bugging me.

I was jealous.

No, scratch that. I was fucking unbelievably, unreasonably jealous. And this jealousy was made stronger by the fact that I didn't know, well, anything. Pam, I knew. If ever it could be said that a vampire was a completely open book, that vampire would be Pam. These… gals? A mystery, wrapped in enigma and with a cute little bow of secrecy on top.

I wondered if he loved them.

My good mood gone out to the wind, I picked up the bottle of coconut oil and stomped back to the house.

The day passed uneventfully. Claude sauntered in at around three in the afternoon, relieved the fridge of excess food, gave me a look the clearly told 'good fucking becomes you' and breezed off after saying that the house reeks of vampires.

Eric rose the second after the last of the red-gold flank of the fat Southern sun sank below the horizon. One minute I was standing there, willing it to move its ass, and the next, cool, strong arms were encircling my waist.

"Staring out into the window, waiting for the sun to set, hmm?" Eric's slightly arrogant drawl resonated in my ears.

"Maybe I'm just curious and want to get this situation with your fairy progeny out of my system," I mumbled going for defensive, but sounding like a petulant child wanting to be coddled, instead.

"Of course you are," Eric agreed solicitously, and for some reason I knew he was absolutely positive as to whom I was waiting for. "But don't you want to make all that… waiting worthwhile?"

He pressed his hips suggestively into my bottom and rolled. I had to keep my eyes from doing a roll of their own which would lead to me watching into the inside of my head.

"Do all vampires get evening wood?" I asked.

"See, we aren't that much different from regular guys," Eric cooed with false excitement.

"Sure you aren't."

"Well, we are able to keep… how did you put it? Wood. Yes, we are able to keep the wood longer." Eric was positively enjoying this absolutely ridiculous conversation which would make my brother Jason proud.

"This is the most lame attempt to talk a girl into having sex I've ever encountered, Eric," I answered, unable to contain a laugh any longer.

"Maybe, but it's working, isn't it?"

Damn right, it was.

Cocky bastard.

~ooo~

Forty most glorious minutes later, I was lying on my back in bed, with Eric's head on my stomach, and my fingers were luxuriating in the silky feel of his long, slightly wavy hair.

"This is not fair," I said with a pout.

"What is?"

"This." I ran my fingers through the perfect tresses. "Why is your hair so perfect all the time, even after you've gone on a huge sex rampage, and mine is all a mess?"

"My lover, this was by no means a sex rampage, I was just stretching my limbs." Cocky bastard. "And I am a vampire, which means I don't have to deal with all those countless bodily fluids you humans have."

Right.

Since me being a human as opposed to him being a vampire was a conversation which ran into much deeper waters than I cared to probe at the moment, I dropped the subject like a hot potato and kept my mouth shut and hands busy.

Very soon, the air around us grew stifling with tension. The subject of Eric's progeny was haunting the space of the room like the proverbial elephant, and it appeared neither of us knew how to start this conversation.

"Not that it bothers me, but are you really that jealous of my hair that you're going to pull it all out?" Eric broke the awkward silence, and I realized that my hands weren't exactly caressing anymore.

"Oh, sorry!" I smoothed his hair in embarrassed apology.

"What is it that you are afraid to hear, Sookie?" he asked, catching me rather unprepared.

"I don't know. Everything, probably." I realized that I was interested equally in both the vampires. It wasn't the fairy factor that intrigues me so much, but rather the Eric factor. Why did he choose them? What were they like? How did they… part ways?

"There was a fairy war," Eric started after a pregnant pause. "Fairies need people to survive in this world, and back then, the four elemental clans didn't live in peace as they do now. The Faery was firmly controlled by the Air and Fire Alliances and the Water and Earth fairies were cast out."

"Wow, that sounds like the initial paragraph of one of those fantasy books," I observed, mesmerized. No matter how many supernatural creatures I knew and how many supernatural happenings I'd been part of, the reality of this world was still hard to wrap my brain around.

"It does. Except, in real life, fairies are not benign trickster spirits, Sookie, make absolutely no exception."

"Even Claude?" I asked, shifting uncomfortably.

"Even Claude. I'm not telling you not to trust him. He seems… to hold you dear. But it doesn't mean he hasn't any fairy ruthlessness in him. He's lived a long life in your measurements."

"Go on," I prompted. I didn't want to discuss Claude and his virtues or lack thereof. The last thing I wanted was to become judgmental of someone I considered family.

"The coven I lived with at the time and a large water fairy tribe were laying claims on a cluster of fishermen villages in Ireland. Neither side was ever known to negotiate with the other, so very soon there was a full-blown war raging. Vampires had an advantage in numbers, but fairies had daylight. After a few very unfortunate losses, we lost that advantage as well and realized that if we didn't act, we would be eliminated one by one while in our day sleep."

"Wasn't that kind of a suicide mission?" I asked.

"Not really. Vampires are generally stronger and faster. And our coven was extremely well-trained in fighting. Besides, fairies had families. Women and children who were liabilities, while every single one of us was a warrior."

"That just sounds so horribly… cynical," I said, remembering one of the more recent words from my calendar.

"I'm afraid I'll have to retort with a most banal platitude, Sookie. Life _is_ cynical. Especially it was back then. The natural selection was still strong."

"So, I guess you won?"

"We did. And we drained every single one of them." I knew it meant women and children too, but I didn't ask for a confirmation, afraid to hear such things coming from my vampire's mouth."

"Apparently, not every single one," I said instead, hinting that he should get to the point already.

"You are right. When we entered the village, it was… bloodbath, to put it mildly. We were all drunk and high on fairy blood, there was so much that it was a rare case when we were all full. Full for days. Walking in the daylight and not going hungry. And then, there she was. She was young, and alone, hiding in the reeds near a creek. I didn't want to drink her, I'd already had too much. I thought I'd just painlessly snap her neck. She begged me for her life. There was something in her eyes, I think. Or maybe, I was just so inebriated that I wanted to see this something."

"Was she beautiful?" I asked, trying to hide my hurt. When Eric talked about this gal, his voice took the dreamy cadence I didn't like since it was applied to another woman. And his eyes misted with the sadness that made my heart clench.

"She was. Very beautiful," Eric answered with the same inexplicable sorrow now creeping into his voice.

"What did she look like?"

"A tiny thing. Small and dainty, like a doll. Long, luxurious red hair and blue eyes. Perfect skin, pearly white."

I already hated that bitch.

"So, what happened?"

"I drained her. Slowly. I glamoured her so that she didn't feel a thing."

"You can glamour fairies?"

"When there's so much pure fairy blood in you, you can do pretty much anything."

"It's a good thing fairies are few and far between nowadays, then," I quipped defensively.

"Yes, it is. So, I drained her, was able to stop and feed her because I was so full already, even though she had the sweetest, most addictive young blood…" Eric seemed to be heedless of what these particular confessions were doing to me. "Then I took her away from my coven and buried her. The war was over, and I could enjoy the celebratory freedom. She rose on the second night as a vampire."

Eric looked at me as if this were the end of his tale. But I was far from satisfied.

"So, what happened with this fairy chick then?" I asked, sitting up on the bed and folding my arms over my chest.

"I see I've ruffled some of your feathers," Eric said with a sad smile, giving me a look-over.

"Would you stop being coy and just give me the rest?" I huffed impatiently, not looking him in the eye.

His hands unfolded my arms gently and ran over my torso appreciatively, as if he were trying to reassure me. It didn't quite work, but I could appreciate the gesture.

"I know you'd prefer the truth, Sookie, so I'm being honest and not trying to whitewash it for you."

"Thank you," I mumbled, slightly mollified. "Please, tell me the rest."

"Despite what you know about Claude, Dermot… Claudine," he pronounced the name carefully, knowing that he was stepping on a very sore spot, "and even Niall, fairies are generally not like them. When I think fairy, I usually think of them more like… Lochlan and Neave."

I shuddered at the mention of these two. They still haunted my dreams sometimes.

"Some would think she made a perfect vampire," Eric went on. "Some, who are vampires, that is. But in truth, there's much more in us from our human life than we'd care to admit. And when our humanity goes completely, we turn into something I don't really like to ponder."

"Wow, I wish I had a recorder right now," I said with sarcasm.

"Yes, and that is the first and the last time you hear me say it." Eric chuckled. "She, on the other hand, was never a human. She was as far removed from human as you can imagine. Completely different set of values, a sense of right and wrong even vampires had trouble understanding. On top of that, a willful, arrogant, driven creature." Something in his voice set all my inner alarms a-buzzing, and then it dawned on me.

"Were you scared of her?" I asked still not believing the words came out of my mouth.

"I was," Eric admitted with a morbid sincerity.

Whoa.

"But you stayed with her for some time, right?"

"Yes, for a long time, actually. Very soon, our coven insisted that I get rid of her or they would do it for me."

"And you chose her?" Somehow, this I could understand. If anything, Eric was extremely loyal and responsible to those who were in his care.

"Yes, but not because I was responsible for her," he answered, as if having just read into my thoughts.

"Then why?" I asked and waited for his answer with baited breath. Something told me that what I was about to hear would be essential to the story.

After a long pause, filled with furrowing of the eyebrows and obvious searching for the right words, Eric said, "For some unfathomable reason, she loved me. Despite her completely alien mind and her foreignness, I knew the feeling was true. She loved me and, for me, she tried. It was extremely hard for her to fight her own ways and savage nature, but she did. It awed me. I couldn't abandon her or kill her."

"But you did separate?"

"Yes. Eventually, she'd done a number of things… which just tested the limits of my patience, and I ordered her to leave me. As her maker."

I gathered my strength for the important question.

"Did you love her?" I asked and swallowed a lump in my throat.

"No," Eric answered with fierce conviction. And just when I was to melt into a puddle with relief, he dropped a bombshell, "But I did love my first child."


End file.
